Space they cannot touch
by Gertrude2034
Summary: House has a mystery to unravel, an intriguing woman who can match him drink for drink, but who has more secrets than he does. Warning for coarse language, sex scenes and generally adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

Maddie woke up suddenly because her mouth was so dry she thought she might choke. She gasped for breath, wondering if her throat was closing. A moment of panic; then she managed to swallow. Her fear subsided and she realised she was just incredibly thirsty. She reached out for the glass of water on her bedside table, but her hand closed on empty air. That startled her.

She opened her eyes and immediately discovered she wasn't in her own bed. Worse than that, there was unmistakably someone in bed with her.

"Oh, fuck!" she exclaimed, and the instant throbbing behind her eyes made her immediately regret speaking so loudly.

She lifted a hand to her head, trying to soothe away the pain, and said "Oh, _fu-u-ck_," again, in a quiet, drawn-out way. Vague details from the night before whispered through her mind, but they were all too insubstantial to be helpful.

A sleepy but irritated voice emerged from beside her. 

"Shhh!" House hated been woken by anything other than his own circadian rhythm. Especially when he was hungover. Scratch that, he was still drunk. But the hangover was close enough to see on the horizon. Hers must have kicked in already. Well, she had been fairly far gone when they'd met. He decided to take some pity on her.

"I normally take a couple of Vicoden and try to sleep through the 'oh fucks'," House said. "Of course, you probably only need to take one."

Without moving any part of his body except his arm, he reached out from under the covers to grab the pill bottle on the bedside table, lobbing it over to land somewhere in the middle of the bed.

Maddie was confused, her thoughts moving through her mind without leaving any meaning behind. She did a quick mental body check: no tell-tale slickness between her thighs, so they hadn't had sex. No other pains or injuries except the killer headache; not a migraine, but close. A nagging sense of unease, but that could easily be attributed to waking up in an unfamiliar environment.

She picked up the pill bottle and squinted at the label. _Prescription pain killers_, she thought, _good call_. Maddie took a closer look at the bedside table and saw there was a glass of water pushed toward the back. It looked like it might have been there a while, but she honestly didn't care. Sure enough, there was a light layer of dust sitting on top of the water.

Ignoring everything except her desperate thirst, Maddie swallowed a pill and drank all the water. She lay back on the pillows gently, her head swimming slightly with the effort.

She lay still for a while, fighting the nausea that inevitably arose as soon as the liquid hit her stomach. Breathing in and out slowly, she lay as still as possible listening to the deep sleep breathing of the man lying next to her, trying to ignore the creeping sense of anxiety as her thoughts became more coherent.

_The previous night_

House had had what could only be described as a shit of a day. An uncooperative patient had pulled in a legal team to stop him from doing the brain biopsy House knew was needed. Cuddy had sided with the lawyers. Wilson had sided with Cuddy. His team had pathetically debated patient rights until he'd wanted to scream.

On top of all that, he'd been in pain all day. Not just his normal pain, but a new level, an extra notch on the usual. Like someone had grabbed a twisted muscle and squeezed – and then not let go.

It was all he could do not to tell them all to piss off. All he wanted was to go home, reach to the very top of his bookcase, pull down the leather compendium and draw up a beautiful, clear, peaceful dose of morphine. Imagining holding the cool bottle in his hand and watching as the liquid drew up into the syringe was as close as he got to meditation.

But he needed to be clear headed for tomorrow. Ready for when the patient dramatically declined, as he knew he would, and House could spring to the rescue – gaining those admiring looks from Wilson and Cuddy especially, who already knew he was right, even if they had to disagree with him today for posterity.

The only option was his usual: Vicoden and alcohol. Wilson had offered to buy him a drink, most likely salving his guilty conscience. They'd headed to a bar they went to from time to time, but after one drink light-weight Wilson had headed home.

House was sitting at a table, vaguely watching a hockey game showing on a TV set over the bar, working his way steadily through a sequence of whiskys poured by an indifferent waitress.

Maddie had been sitting at the bar for a while. She'd had enough red wine to be feeling pleasantly numb and had pushed away the reason she'd walked into the bar earlier that evening.

Unfortunately it had got to the point in the night when her bladder felt like it couldn't hold even a teaspoon of liquid. On her way to the ladies she stumbled, on nothing, just her own misbalance, and knocked someone's chair. His drink spilt on his jeans and he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Watch it!"

House wasn't in the mood for anything else to go wrong with his day. He looked up at the woman who knocked into him, waiting to see if he could start a fight, but she hadn't even seemed to notice and kept walking to the back of the bar. He muttered something his mother would have blushed to hear and grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser and began wiping at his jeans, simultaneously calling over the waitress to get a fresh drink.

In the bathroom Maddie looked at herself in the mirror. A somewhat attractive, late-thirties red-head looked back at her. Her best features were her red hair and green eyes. Her pale skin was blotchy, pink patches bright on her cheeks from the wine. Something was niggling at the back of her mind. Something was desperately wrong, but she just at that moment couldn't quite remember what it was. She just felt that general sense of dread; of coming home to find that you _had_ left the iron on after all and nothing was left but a pile of smouldering ashes and a fireman yelling at you for your stupidity.

She splashed some water on her face and flashed back to a few moments ago. Ah, she'd made that guy spill his drink and she didn't even say sorry. Maybe that was what was bothering her? Easy fixed, she could buy him a new one. Maybe that would make her feel better. She knew that wasn't it, but the thought of having something positive to do, something easy to atone for, was slightly satisfying.

As she dried her face and hands she knew that she was pretty drunk. She knew she'd better work out what to say to him so she didn't slur or stammer – not the way to make a good first impression.

House watched as the drunk woman came back from the bathroom and pulled out the chair opposite him, sitting down at his table.

"I need to buy you a drink," she said.

House groaned inwardly. He rarely got picked up these days and it was a novelty he would normally enjoy, but tonight he just wasn't up for it.

"Look…" he began.

Maddie interrupted. "No, wait. It's because I made you spill your drink. And drinks are important and should not be spilt." She made an extravagant arm gesture to the bored-looking waitress at the bar.

"Garcon!" she called out. "Another round here please!"

The waitress just turned to the bar and ordered their drinks, already familiar with what each of them was drinking. She returned a moment later with a glass of red wine and a snifter of whisky.

House raised his glass, deciding to down it and leave, despite the attractive woman and her alcohol-purchasing tendencies. It was more than time for him to go anyway.

"A toast…" Maddie proposed.

House halted, pausing patiently to hear her out.

She looked him straight in the eyes. "…to days that fuck you over like you were a ten-dollar hooker, and to still being alive and kicking at the end."

Despite himself, House couldn't help giving a little snort of laughter in appreciation. He cocked his glass and raised it to clink with hers.

"Good toast," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

"So what happened to you today?" House asked, against his better judgement. His better judgement was telling him to go home now, while he was still not completely off his face, so he could go to bed, get up early and go to the hospital and continue the fight. But he found himself hanging around and wanting to hear her answer. Maybe comparing his fucked up life to someone else's fucked up life would make his seem better in comparison. Or maybe not.

"Hmm, what happened to me today?" Maddie repeated the question. She actually had to think back to what had happened to her just a few hours ago.

"Oh, I remember! I'm on vacation!" she raised her glass again in celebration and took a long sip.

"Ah, forgive me, but I would have though that was a reasonably good day?" House asked, confused. His better judgement gave him another tap on the shoulder and mentioned what a good idea it might be to leave right now.

"Yes, you would _think_ so." Maddie was stabbing the air with a finger to emphasise her point. "But this is one of those vacations when your boss comes into your office and sits down and says that he thinks it might be a good idea if you took a couple of days off to rest and it's been a rough day and don't you think that would be a good idea?

"Pfft. Whose idea of a good idea? It wasn't _my_ idea," Maddie said, vaguely aware that she'd said the word 'idea' quite a lot.

"Oh, one of _those_ vacations," House nodded. "I've had a couple of those in my career. So, what'd you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did you do to deserve enforced vacation? Something naughty? Steal something? Sleep with the boss?" House raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Yuck, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. My boss is _short_." She made it sound like the worst insult in the world.

"Right, don't like short men, fair enough."

"You know, you have lovely eyes," Maddie looked at him closely. She hadn't really meant to say that out loud, but red wine had a way of lubricating the pathway of thoughts to verbalisation.

"Thanks. Yours are a bit of a knock out too, you know." Like he always did on meeting a female, House had checked out the particulars. She was tall, slender but not thin, he thought she'd be close to forty. The brilliant green eyes were a stand out and the mane of red hair falling below her shoulders invited fingers to be run through it. Her clothes were expensive, jewellery tasteful, but likewise obviously high-end. Her royal-purple knit plunged to a deep vee, revealing the swells of large breasts. All-in-all a very nice, albeit incredibly intoxicated, package.

"Napoleon was short," Maddie chimed in. "And didn't he get sent on enforced vacation too? To that little island…" she trailed off.

"Elba," supplied House. "Yes, but then he did invade half of Europe. I doubt you did anything quite so dramatic to deserve punishment."

"Have you ever been to Spain?" Maddie asked.

House's head was beginning to hurt trying to keep track of the conversation. His better judgement had given up trying to say anything.

"Once, but when I was a kid. And Elba is off the coast of Italy, not Spain," he corrected.

Maddie sat up straight to reminisce. "I went a few years ago. It's beautiful. I remember walking down a street in Seville," she pronounced it properly, _se-be-ya_, "and the orange trees were all in fruit. You could smell them as you walked along the street. There was this beautiful mosaic at a Moorish palace. It made me want to go back in time and live there as a princess."

She looked away, lost in her dreams. House had no problems picturing her in a filmy, I-dream-of-Jeannie, Moorish-princess type of costume. She'd be stunning.

He offered his hand across the table.

"I'm Greg."

Shaken from her reverie, Maddie looked back at him. "Madeleine, Maddie," she answered, grasping his hand firmly.

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_Later that night_

House wasn't quite sure how things had come to this. He was weaving his way down the corridor in his apartment, cane in one hand, his other arm around Maddie. She was still chatting, but he'd stopped listening. His leg was still sore and now he knew that all he'd scored himself for tomorrow was a killer hangover and an awkward scene when it came to getting rid of Maddie.

They hadn't even kissed, so god knew why he thought it was a good idea to take her back to his place and go to bed with her. But here he was, yet again another stupid situation he'd got himself into with a female.

Maddie sat down on the bed, falling silent at last. They just looked at each other for a while.

Finally House spoke.

"You might want to take those jeans off, they'll be uncomfortable to sleep in."

"Good idea." Maddie moved to undo her buttons, kicking off her shoes.

"You want to go to sleep?" she asked hesitantly, hopefully. It had only just penetrated her brain that she was really here, in his apartment. Sex was the last thing she felt like, but she didn't really care, whatever he wanted to do was fine with her. She'd probably pass out pretty soon anyway and then it wouldn't matter.

House thought hard about it. She was very attractive, but also very drunk. He didn't want to think that she might be too out of it to know exactly what she was doing. But it had been a while for him, and there she was, sexy, ready and seemingly willing. He thought about the possibilities, waiting to see if they stirred a response. After a moment he resignedly admitted that the only thing hard about him was his thoughts.

"Yeah, I want to go to sleep," he muttered, annoyed.

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When House woke up late in the morning, bleary-eyed and headachy, the bed next to him was empty. Out on the sofa he later discovered a ragged piece of paper, torn from a notepad on his desk. The single word 'Sorry' was scrawled on it, a loopy letter M below. At first he wondered whether she had robbed him and then felt guilty about it, but a quick look round showed nothing out of place. Then he realised she just meant, well, everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Your reviews would be appreciated! This story is taking over my life a bit, so I'd be thrilled to hear your thoughts. It is going to be a bit of a rollercoaster, so prepare for the bumps!

Also, just to explain the timeline, this is loosely based around the end of season three, before anyone resigned. Cuddy and Wilson are going to feature.

**---------------------------------------------------------------**

_A week later_

House stormed his way to Cuddy's office, furious that she had short-circuited his treatments again. Twice in one week. It was maddening that she made him go through with this charade each time, making him argue the point with her, just so in the end she could feel better about agreeing with him.

As he approached her office he could see she had company, a black-suited woman sitting with her back to him. Cuddy was wearing her best suck-up face, so the woman was obviously a potential benefactor. _Excellent_, thought House, _if it's someone important she'll want me out of there fast – less likely to argue. _

"Cuddy!" he announced, pushing open the door. "You are about to give me permission to save a life because…"

"House," Cuddy said warningly, shooting him her best 'please behave' look. She stood up and moved around her desk, motioning to introduce her guest to House.

"Dr House, this is Madeleine Cooper, the corporate affairs manager for APAC Bank. The bank is looking at making a significant contribution to the children's cancer ward," she added meaningfully, narrowing her eyes at House.

The black-suited woman stood, revealing long, stockinged legs, a short skirt, her suit jacket buttoned over a low-cut blouse. Her red hair was styled into a chignon. She looked so different that it was a moment before recognition clicked with House. Maddie took Cuddy's corporate wardrobe and raised it to the next level. Standing next to Cuddy, she was at least six inches taller in lower heels, so much the part of the feminine executive as to make Cuddy look almost childish.

House took a long look up and down, hearing Cuddy's sigh of disapproval as he did so. He remembered watching her remove her jeans while she sat on the edge of his bed and appreciating the long pale limbs at the time. They looked even better in the fine mesh net of her black stockings.

Maddie held out her hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you Dr House."

House wondered if she was pretending not to know him. But she seemed genuine, her smile open, no hidden meanings, no blush. He smirked. It was going to hit her, he knew it would.

"Oh no, the pleasure _was_ all mine," he said.

Cuddy tensed, she knew House well enough to know that something was going on. She hoped it was just his usual inept flirting with any attractive woman who smiled at him.

Maddie tried to place the face of the doctor before her. She knew she knew him from somewhere, but she was also preoccupied by the fact that she was due to meet the bank's chairman in a few minutes to complete a tour of the hospital facilities. Accompanying the chairman was her least favourite part of the job. Part bully, part three-year-old, it had been her misfortune to have to baby-sit him several times in the past month. It was exhausting, having to spend all her time on her toes, covering for his clumsy, often downright rude, comments to all and sundry.

Maddie turned back to Cuddy.

"Dr Cuddy, I'd like just a couple of moments to brief you before Mr Anderson arrives. He will have some, ah, _particular_ requirements about our tour of the hospital."

"A tour of the hospital!" exclaimed House, rocking back on his heels, still waiting for the penny to drop. "Dr Cuddy, I happen to be free just at the moment, and I'd love the opportunity to show some of our valued…"

Cuddy interrupted abruptly. "Dr House, thank you for your offer, but we are all organised. And I am sure, being the head of our diagnostics department," she said for the benefit of Maddie, "that you are very busy."

Cuddy moved forward and started ushering House out of the office. Before she could get him to the door, he reached out to shake hands with Maddie again.

"It was very nice to meet you _Maddie_," he said with emphasis.

A little puzzled by his overtness, Maddie shook his hand again, not noticing he'd shortened her name.

"Nice to meet you too, Dr House."

"Oh no, please call me _Greg_," he said, giving himself a mental high five as her watched her smile falter, her face pale.

Blue eyes, a cane, _Greg_. Maddie felt physically sick as memories came flooding back to her. That day. The bar. His bedroom. That day.

She drew a deep breath and turned to Cuddy.

"Dr Cuddy, would you have a restroom nearby? I'd like to freshen up before we go to meet Mr Anderson."

Cuddy looked at her guest, she suddenly seemed quite unwell.

"Yes, of course, you can use my private bathroom. It's just through there," she gestured to the far wall.

"Thank you." Maddie collected her handbag and walked into the bathroom, closing the door without looking at either of them.

"House, what did you do?" Cuddy immediately turned on him, whispering furiously.

"What? What did I do?" House held up his hands in mock defence. But he did feel a little bad about how Maddie had responded. He had thought she'd be a bit embarrassed, maybe blush, maybe offer to buy him a coffee later. But she'd looked as if she was going to be sick. Maybe that was what spending a night with him these days resulted in, he thought gloomily.

"I don't know what you've done. But whatever it is, go away. Shoo." Cuddy pushed him out of her office and closed the door behind him. Then as an afterthought she opened the door and whispered furiously out at him, "And if you've cost me ten million dollars, I'm going to kill you."

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House was sitting in his office a couple of hours later, surfing the internet while he waited for test results on his latest patient. There was a quiet knock on his office door and he looked up to see Maddie standing in the doorway.

"May I come in?" she asked formally.

"Sure," House rose to meet her, showing her to the sofa in his office. He closed the door and sat down in the chair nearby.

"I guess I wasn't expecting to run into you here," Maddie said, laughing nervously, clasping her hands in her lap tightly. Thinking to herself, she wasn't expecting to run into him _anywhere_. Specifically not somewhere she was going to need to spend a considerable amount of time over the next few weeks as part of her work. So she'd had no choice but to come see him and get it over with. Find out if this was going to be trouble or otherwise.

"So, your enforced vacation's obviously over," House said, challenging her.

Maddie cringed inwardly, she'd forgotten that she'd told him about that. But she was pretty sure she hadn't told him the reason for it.

"Oh, yes," she said airily. "All sorted." Her tone brooked no further questions on the topic, but she was clearly unsettled.

"How did the tour go?" House asked, changing the subject, noting her nervousness.

"Fine. My chairman was a little demanding, but I think overall it went well. Dr Cuddy was brilliant, she certainly knows her way around…uh…difficult-to-manage personalities." Maddie said diplomatically. She always referred to the chairman, John Anderson, as 'cockhead' in her mind. Sometimes she had to be careful it didn't come out when she was talking.

"Yeah, she's had a bit of practice," House replied innocently. "You know, lots of those donors are the prickly types."

"So," Maddie paused, uncertain how to begin. "I just wanted to say thanks for the other night. I know I was a bit…" she paused "…messy."

House nodded. "Yeah, but you weren't by yourself there."

Maddie took a deep breath. "Yes, I know, but still. It's not normally like me." _But I was celebrating, no, grieving, no_ …

"It's pretty normal for me," House said bluntly, watching the play of emotions on her face, not sure what to attribute it to. Frankly he was still a bit gob-smacked by those legs and the creamy breasts on show between the lapels of her suit jacket. He had to keep reminding himself to look at herface.

"Can I make it up to you?" Maddie asked, not entirely sure why she was offering. But likewise she was aware of his physicality. The strong arms that she'd admired even when she first met him. Salt and pepper hair, captivating eyes, broad shoulders. It was an attractive package.

House looked at her askance. "What do you mean?"

"Can I cook you dinner? I'm nothing special, but I have been known to make a reasonable meal that people have even eaten on occasion." Maddie felt her heart rate increase a little, anxious about putting an invitation out there.

"Well, I do eat occasionally," House answered, wondering if this was the first time in his life a woman had asked him out on a date. "Sure. When did you have in mind?"

Maddie let out a breath in relief. "How about tomorrow night? Around seven-thirty?" At his nod, she grabbed a notebook and pen from her briefcase and wrote her address on a piece of paper, tearing it out and handing it across to him.

House took the proffered piece of paper, recognising the writing from the scrawl he'd found on his sofa.

"Thanks. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. I'll sort it out." Maddie rose to leave the office.

On reaching the door, she turned to him. He hadn't moved from his position on the chair. "Thanks. I appreciate you giving me the chance," she said shyly, walking out of his office without giving him a chance to respond.

House sat there, pondering, not entirely sure what he might have got himself into.

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Back at his desk just a few minutes later, House was interrupted again by a knock on his door. Cuddy didn't ask to come in though, she strode in purposefully and sat down opposite him.

"Right, you owe me an explanation," she stated.

House narrowed his eyes, wondering exactly what he owed the explanation for – his current patient's treatment, the Maddie thing, or for being AWOL from the clinic for the past two days. He stayed silent waiting for her to be more specific to avoid incriminating himself.

"As soon as we finished the tour with the chairman, Madeleine Cooper asked me where she could find you. As you were supposed to be doing clinic duty, of course I told her she could find you in your office."

She gave House a suspicious look.

"Why does the person in charge of my ten million dollar donation want to see you? What did you do to her?"

"Why do I always have to have done something bad?" House asked innocently. "You're always painting me in a bad light."

"So what did she come to see you for, then? A consult?" she added sarcastically.

"If you must know, she invited me out for dinner."

That wasn't the answer she had expected. She studied him carefully, trying to work out what game he was playing.

"No, really, what happened?" she asked again. "Please don't tell me she was a clinic patient that you offended when you were doing a pelvic."

"Dr Cuddy! As if I would do such a thing!" House protested loudly.

Cuddy just rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Cuddy – does she look like someone who needs to visit a free clinic?" House added.

Cuddy ignored him. "Seriously House, this woman has the power to veto this donation, so whatever is going on here, you have to be extremely careful. If you need to say sorry, say sorry. Please, for once."

House was enjoying the banter, but he had a sudden flash to the piece of paper on his sofa, the word 'sorry' scrawled across it. He frowned. He had to admit he was certainly curious about this woman – intrigued if nothing else by the contrast between their first and second meetings – in addition to a generous dollop of sheer lust, but that went without saying. Her world was one he wanted to know more about, not that he was going to let on to Cuddy.

"Why, what does the children's cancer ward need with more millions?" he countered. "Isn't it rich through to the next century?"

"It's the bane of my life that everyone wants to fund the children's ward," Cuddy said, almost to herself. "If only I could get someone to finance pathology, that's where we really need the money. Corporates just aren't interested in blood tests and stool samples.

"But if you think I'm going to say 'no' to ten million dollars just because it's for an already well-funded part of the hospital then you're a bigger idiot than I thought."

House regarded her silently for a moment. This hospital really was her baby, he thought, there was no room in her life for another one.

"I promise to behave and protect your interests," House said solemnly. _As long as they don't clash with my own_, he added silently, his fingers crossed under the desk.

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**Another A/N: **Just to let you know, the rating is going to change to M after this chapter. Things are going to get a little steamy.


	4. Chapter 4

House knocked on the door of Maddie's apartment. He'd found the address reasonably easily, a groovy warehouse conversion in a newly trendy part of town. He'd driven his car, not willing to leave his bike on the street in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. Her apartment was on the top floor, reached by a huge, rattling service elevator. He felt a little keyed up, full of nervous energy, even though he'd taken a Vicoden and downed a whisky at home before leaving, in an effort to keep his nerves balanced.

She answered the door, wearing jeans and a pale green soft knit that showed off her décolletage and made her eyes sparkle.

"Hi," she said softly, feeling a little shy again, now that he was really there.

"Hi," he answered.

Maddie stepped back, opening the door wide to let him in.

House entered and took in the expanse of room before him. A long, low sofa dominated the room on the left, matching armchairs on either side. A wide plasma TV was set off in a corner and rows of full bookshelves lined the far wall. A huge dining table divided the space between the lounge and kitchen areas, placed directly in front of a large industrial-style window with views across the city. A corridor led off to the right, ostensibly to bathroom and bedroom areas.

It was a spectacular and blatantly expensive space.

House let out a low whistle. "Cool place."

"Thanks. I've worked hard for it," Maddie answered. "Would you like a drink?" She laughed at herself, thinking about their first meeting. "I guess a better question would be 'what sort of drink would you like?'"

House nodded. "What you got?"

"Come into the kitchen and choose for yourself."

Maddie led the way into the kitchen, walking past the table set simply but elegantly for two. House suddenly felt out of his depth; the apartment was too classy for him, he wasn't the kind of guy that did degustation meals or talked posh furniture brands.

Maddie opened a cupboard displaying a broad range of liquors, including, House noted, at least three kinds of very decent Scotch whisky.

"I also have wine – white or red, whichever you'd like, I drink either. I drink just about anything, really." Maddie laughed wanly.

House gave her a side look, wondering why she'd volunteer that.

"Glenmorangie will do me fine thanks."

"My favourite too," Maddie said appreciatively, grabbing the bottle and two low glasses.

"I don't know what you like to eat, but I've made pasta, that OK with you?"

"Sure." House wandered around the kitchen aimlessly as Maddie put pots over flame and mixed a salad in a large bowl. There was an uncomfortable silence for a while as both of them searched for something to talk about.

"Oh, music!" Maddie exclaimed. "The CD finished just before you arrived. Would you like to put something on?"

Grateful to have something to occupy himself, House headed out to the lounge, locating the Bang and Olufsen stereo and the rack of CDs. He chose an album by the _Cocteau Twins_, a band he hadn't heard in years.

Maddie rustled in the kitchen, getting the food ready as quickly as possible. She had already decided that it had all been a terrible idea, they were clearly uncomfortable with each other. Best thing she could do was get the food out fast so they could eat quickly and he could leave. She gulped her whisky and checked on the sauce bubbling away in its pot.

Turning back around to the counter she reached out to the whisky bottle, keen to pour herself another drink to help settle her nerves. She hadn't realised that House had returned to the kitchen. Having gulped his own drink after selecting a CD he had come back into the kitchen with the aim of pouring himself another. Their hands clasped around the whisky bottle at the same time.

Stepping back, they both laughed. Their laughter seemed to break the awkward spell that had hung over them and the atmosphere warmed considerably. House picked up the bottle and held it out to Maddie. She held up her glass and let him pour a generous measure, then he filled his own.

"Cheers," Maddie said clinking her glass on his.

"What, no toast this time?" House asked, a cheeky look on his face.

Maddie had a blurred recollection of her toast proposed the first night they met. She had no desire to revisit it.

"No, no toast. But bread, yes," she said, turning and rescuing the bread from the oven just in time. "Grab a seat and I'll bring out the food."

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After the meal, House relaxed at the table, a glass of red wine in his hand, looking out appreciatively to the view. The food had been simple and enjoyable. Maddie had put him at the head of the table, giving him the best view of the city lights. She sat next to him on the side, and was now absently playing with the salad servers and gazing into the distance. This time the silence between them was companionable and rather sweet.

House put his hand out to still her fidgeting. She smiled at him, then picked up her wine and drained it. He turned her hand over in his, resting it on top, examining the smooth skin and French manicured nails.

"So, tell me the Maddie Cooper life story," he asked.

"Not much to tell. Grew up in New York. Went to college in Boston. Have been working in PR and marketing for most of my career. Started with APAC about three years ago and I've just been put in charge of community relations, which is why I'm working with Dr Cuddy."

"So that's your resume," House prompted, "now tell me about _you_." His curiosity – as always – piqued by anyone who didn't want to reveal things about themselves.

"Like what?" Maddie was starting to feel uncomfortable, she never knew what to say and what to leave out in these situations.

"I don't know, family, hobbies, pets, favourite sexual positions…" House raised an insouciant eyebrow.

"Not backward about coming forward, are you?" Maddie countered. House had begun to stroke her palm with his thumb. It was a small touch, but maddeningly arousing. She took a little shaky breath in, not sure whether it was from the questioning or his touch, either way hoping it didn't show.

"OK, family: I'm an only child, my mom still lives in New York. My father's dead," she said quickly, half swallowing the words. "I like modern art and football. I like scotch, expensive red wine and beer – preferably Grolsch. I have an embarrassing weakness for 80s music, but thankfully the more highly regarded British punk/goth scene. I don't have any pets because I work long hours and can't be trusted not to forget about them." Maddie paused and gave him a flirty smile, now feeling on safer ground. "As for that last one, you'll just have to find out for yourself."

House narrowed his eyes at her. There was something in her answer that told him there was far more to the story, but he couldn't quite pin down what it was. Other than that he was pretty impressed with her answers. A woman who liked both beer and at least one kind of sport was a treasure indeed – good enough that he could probably ignore her poor music taste.

"Now your turn," Maddie squeezed his hand. House had almost been unaware of what he'd been doing, looking down at the table he saw his hand in hers, felt the soft skin under the pad of his thumb. He felt a sudden jolt of arousal as her fingers started to gently wind their way through his.

"Uh," he gave his head a slight shake, looking back at her. "Family: also an only child, which doesn't bode well if you'd planned on us sharing dessert. Mom and dad both still around. I don't really have hobbies unless you count drinking and sleeping, although I do like the odd hockey game. Oh, and monster truck rallies."

Maddie gave him a disbelieving look.

"I have a pet rat called Steve, who seems immune to my attempts to kill him through neglect. And I've always liked woman-on-top, although missionary does have its place."

Maddie laughed at him, but felt suddenly shy at his intense, suggestive gaze. She broke away, pulling her hand from his, gathering up the plates and taking them back into the kitchen.

House wasn't going to miss this chance like he'd missed the last one, and he'd been carefully judging his alcohol and Vicoden intake to ensure he was up to performance standards. He felt as if some kind of magnetic current was pulling him to her, something he couldn't explain to himself properly. He picked up the salad bowl and followed her into the kitchen, setting it down on the sink.

Maddie moved around the kitchen, tidying away the remnants of their meal, acutely aware of his silent presence, leaning against the counter top observing her, of the way her body was aching to draw towards him, her keen desire to feel his touch on more than just her hand.

"So," she said breezily, trying to be nonchalant, "dessert, coffee?" She walked over to him, unable to resist the pull of his eyes. "I'm not really a dessert person but I have some chocolate…"

Before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her around the waist and spun her against the kitchen counter. She was pressed between the cupboard and his hips as his mouth sought hers.

Despite his fierce move, when House's mouth met hers his lips were gentle. Maddie's eyes closed as he nipped at her lips, placing light, sweet kisses around her mouth and on her lips. Then he paused for a beat, their lips not quite touching, their breath mingling. It was more than Maddie could bear, the anticipation, the gentle assault on her senses.

She leant in to him, desperate to make their mouths meet. But all she met was air.

Opening her eyes in confusion, she saw House had moved his head back a fraction to avoid her lips, a smile playing over his face.

"What…?" Maddie murmured in confusion.

"I just wanted to check if you wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you," House said.

Maddie made an impatient growling noise. She grasped his head in her hands and brought his mouth to hers. This time the gentle playfulness was gone, replaced by hunger and raw desire. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around the back of his thighs to bring their bodies closer to each other. She pushed her pelvis into him, feeling his hardening erection as proof the kiss was having an effect on both of them.

House had been running his hands up Maddie's back and inside her top. When she wrapped her leg around him he had to put his hands on the counter to keep them both balanced. He groaned for the loss of her skin under his fingertips, but it was soon replaced by the exquisite sensation of her grinding against him. He moved his lips from her mouth to plant kisses below her ear and down to her collarbone.

Maddie put her hands behind her and lifted herself up onto the kitchen counter. She opened her legs to allow his body closer contact. House stepped in and put an arm around her back, pulling her into him, pressing her breasts into his chest.

Their mouths moved back together, open and tasting each other. When Maddie sucked gently on his tongue he couldn't help the groan that vibrated in his throat.

Maddie reached between them to unbutton House's shirt, made difficult by her impatience to get it off him and her dislike of the need to have space between their bodies in order to make it happen. Finally the buttons were all released and House helped her to shrug it off his shoulders. Then she grabbed the hem of his t-shirt at the back, pulling it up and over his head. They broke the kiss just long enough for Maddie to pull the t-shirt through and for House to lean back so she could drag the sleeves down his arms.

Maddie's position on the kitchen counter gave her easy access to House's mouth and body, but their hips were no longer aligned and the movement and friction that had been so enticing a moment earlier wasn't possible.

"I'm…not…" she tried to say, but he swallowed her words with his tongue.

Maddie contented herself with the feeling of his back and shoulders under her fingers. He had broad, well defined shoulders, probably from using the cane, she speculated. She moved away from his mouth to range her lips over his shoulder, kissing and licking where his collar bone met the smooth round muscle leading down his arm. She ran her hands over his chest, loving the feel of the light dusting of hair, hearing his intake of breath when she ran a fingernail lightly over his nipple.

"We have a problem," House said raggedly.

The words slowly penetrated Maddie's consciousness and she stopped, moving back to look into his eyes.

"We do?" she asked.

"Yes. Clothes. As in you are wearing far too many of them. We need to fix that immediately, but I would prefer to do it somewhere a little less…well…vertical." House was embarrassed to admit that he couldn't continue in their current position, but his leg was shortly going to be painful enough to distract him from the other pleasurable sensations he'd prefer to be concentrating on.

Maddie hadn't been thinking, but obviously the standing up thing wasn't the best idea for someone who needed a cane to walk. Without a word, she gave him a quick peck, pushed on his chest to make him move back a step, and jumped down from the counter. She looked at him with her sexiest smile and reached over to grab his hand.

"Follow me," she said.

They moved toward the bedroom, Maddie leading the way down the corridor. It wasn't how she'd imagined the night turning out, but there was no way she wasn't going along with it now.

House toed off his shoes and moved to sit on the bed, but Maddie held out a hand to stop him.

"Before you do that, let's do this," she said, moving her hands to undo the belt in his jeans.

"Good thinking," he muttered a little breathlessly as she deftly moved her fingers to unbutton his fly, managing to brush the backs of her fingers against his erection as she did so. She pushed his jeans down, leaving his boxers on, and then gave him a light push to make him sit. Once he was on the bed, she knelt on the floor and pulled his jeans and socks all the way off. From her vantage point on the floor she looked up at him mischievously.

Without a word, she bent her head and kissed the inside of his left knee. House watched her, moving his legs apart as she traced up his inner thigh, kissing as she went. Her hands caressed the outsides of his legs as she moved, fingers skating over the scars on his right side without missing a beat. House took a deep breath in anticipation.

When she got to the legs of his boxers she skipped a few places and planted a kiss just below his navel, in the line of dark hair that disappeared downwards.

"Come here woman," House growled, grasping Maddie around the upper arms and pulling her up to meet his face. They fell backwards onto the bed, kissing hotly, while House struggled to find the band of her top to pull it off. Maddie sat up to help.

"Here, let me get it," she said, pulling the top off in one swift move. As she undressed, House moved onto the bed properly, legs up and head on the pillow. He took a moment to admire her mauve bra with an intricate red tulip pattern.

"Interesting," he said.

"French," she answered.

She nimbly removed her jeans as well, revealing a matching thong.

House nodded appreciatively. "Nice."

He grabbed her and pulled her toward him, pushing her so she was lying flat next to him. He rolled on his side to kiss her again, his hand moving over her shoulder, then down to run one finger just inside the edge of her bra. He did the same to each breast, just barely touching, tracing the embroidered outline. Maddie moaned quietly into his mouth, his light touch driving her crazy.

His hand moved down and slipped inside her thong, moving to her hip to ease the scrap of fabric down. Maddie adjusted her position and soon he had manoeuvred her underwear down to her knees, where she used her toes to remove it completely.

He then repeated his earlier light touching, but this time on her stomach and inner thighs – where the edges of her underwear had just been. His lips took the place of his fingers on her breasts, leaving a trail of dampness that his breath made electric.

Maddie lay back and closed her eyes, loving the feeling of being taken care of, touched and kissed. Everything else flew from her mind, the anxiety, the worry, the trauma of the past days.

House's mouth moved between her breasts, kissing as he worked his way down her torso. He moved awkwardly as he made his way to her navel, trying to find a comfortable position for himself, but as Maddie guessed his intentions, she moved up and across the bed to give him space to stretch out. He grunted in acknowledgement, not lifting his head from her belly.

When he reached the tip of her pelvic bone, he stopped and breathed lightly across the dampness of his previous kisses, smiling delightedly when he saw the goose bumps rise across her skin.

Maddie caught her breath and shivered involuntarily. She raised her head and looked down at him, meeting his eyes. "I need…" she whispered, not sure how to continue.

House smiled again and nodded imperceptibly. He loved how desperate she looked. His head dipped to taste her properly this time.

Maddie gasped and threw her head back, her hand reaching to grab a fistful of the pillow.

He fluttered his tongue lightly, continuing until he heard a strangled groan from her and could feel her pelvic muscles tensing under his lips. He changed from the light teasing touch to a firm, constant stroking movement.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

House couldn't resist the opportunity for a jape. He raised his head.

"Yes?" he intoned, in a deep, deity-impersonating voice. 

Maddie gave a little cry. "No, don't stop!" she said ferociously, desperately.

House gave a little laugh, reflecting that sometimes it was just as well he amused himself.

He went back to his task without complaint, curling two fingers into her.

For Maddie the world receded. Nothing existed except this man and what he was doing to her. There was a moment of total calm, she felt as if every muscle in her body had relaxed. Then suddenly she was coming, all of her muscles were contracting, and after forever she came out the other end, weak and shaking.

----------------------------------------------------------

They made love twice more that night, making use of both of House's stated two favourite positions. House awarded himself a medal for his stamina, his performance something he'd thought well beyond him at his age.

When they woke around eight-thirty the next morning, they forgot for a while that it was a weekday, lying together, stroking whatever skin they could find. When the realisation dawned, they reluctantly released each other. Maddie was insistent House take the first shower.

"I can always tell them I was interviewing a doctor about our donation," she said.

House cringed inwardly, remembering Cuddy's warning words. He genuinely hoped that whatever happened with Maddie, it wouldn't adversely affect the hospital. He had to admit he didn't have a strong track record when it came to happy, long lasting relationships, or ending shorter ones positively.

House showered quickly, returning to the bedroom to dress. He grabbed Maddie as she made her way to the bathroom.

"We should do this again," he said tentatively, nervous about her reaction.

"Yes, we should," she answered firmly.

"Can I take you out for dinner on Friday?" House asked, more confident now. "You wouldn't want to eat anything I could cook, so best I can offer is someone else to do it for me."

Maddie smiled. "Sounds fine to me."

"Pick you up here at seven?"

She nodded, kissing him briefly before dashing into the bathroom.

House gathered up the rest of his things and headed out into the kitchen to pick up his clothing that had been discarded there the night before. He donned his t-shirt and shirt on then moved to sit on the sofa to put his shoes on.

The silence was broken by her phone ringing. Water was running in the bathroom, so Maddie was clearly in the shower. He let the phone ring, assuming she had an answering machine. Sure enough, after another couple of rings it clicked on, Maddie's clear voice coolly asking the caller to leave a message.

"Maddie, it's mom. Please ring me back," the voice, said a little sob breaking at the end. "I'm so worried about you. I haven't heard from you since… since it happened." There was a pause. "We still haven't heard anything from the police yet. Please, just call me."

The call rang off and the answering machine clicked to silence a moment later.

House was astonished. Of course, it could just be an over-protective mother, calling about a missing cat. But then it could also be a lot more. He thought over the puzzle pieces in his picture of Madeleine Cooper, certain there was something major missing. Just when he was thinking about hanging around to question her when she got out of the shower, his mobile rang. Cuddy requested – no, demanded – that he get into work immediately.

He picked up his car keys and left the apartment, his brain still turning over the new information.

--------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Trivia info for you that you may or may not already know. The lead singer of the Cocteau Twins was Elizabeth Fraser, who later went on to be in many other bands including the wonderful This Mortal Coil. She also worked with Massive Attack, singing lead vocals on the gorgeous song Teardrop, which as we all know, is the title theme for House. In more obscure trivia news, the bass player from the Cocteau Twins now plays with an American performer called Stephanie Dosen who's fantastic – go check her out.


	5. Chapter 5

Maddie had a meeting with Cuddy at the hospital later that afternoon. She was hoping to avoid running into House because she knew it would be hard to maintain her professional demeanour around him. She was also feeling sore in muscles that hadn't had a work out for a long time and although no one else would notice she was sure he'd pick up on her vague limp.

On meeting Dr Cuddy again, Maddie was struck by how much she genuinely liked this woman. She was warm but decisive, friendly but always professional. Maddie was slightly jealous; she knew she was generally interpreted as fairly cold and matter-of-fact professionally.

She and Cuddy had to go through the contract and discuss the media launch for the bank's donation announcement. They spread the documents out over the table in Cuddy's office and went to work.

After an hour pouring over the intricate wording of the contract, Cuddy sat up and stretched.

"I could do with a coffee, how about you?" she asked.

Maddie nodded. "Tea for me if we can manage it, but yes, it's definitely time to get away from these papers."

"I've been trying to stop myself from yawning for about the past half hour," Cuddy confided in a girlish way.

Maddie sat back and stretched, again feeling the pull in her sore muscles, smiling to herself as she remembered how they'd been caused.

"I can get my assistant to bring us drinks or we can go for a walk up to the cafeteria. Which would you prefer?"

"Oh, a walk, definitely," Maddie said, temporarily forgetting the possibility of seeing House.

* * *

The two women walked into the cafeteria talking animatedly about their ideas for the announcement. Cuddy had experienced many launches at the hospital and had good ideas about what worked and what didn't, while Maddie's priorities were what the media and the bank's board of directors would be looking for.

Wilson and House had been grabbing an early lunch, which had mostly involved Wilson listening while House complained about his latest patient. Wilson looked up from his coffee after noticing that House had stopped talking mid-sentence. He followed House's gaze to the queue at the coffee counter, where Cuddy was chatting with someone he didn't recognise.

"What's Cuddy done to you now?" Wilson asked patiently, assuming House was staring at Cuddy for some vindictive reason.

"Nothing," House answered blithely, taking a bite out of his sandwich and returning to their original conversation. He couldn't believe it, but he was twitching inside his jeans, just looking at her.

Wilson grimaced, House talking with a mouthful was one of his least favourite sights.

Cuddy and Maddie grabbed their cups and turned to find a table. Cuddy immediately caught sight of Wilson and House and remembered House's behaviour towards Maddie when they'd met in her office. He still hadn't adequately explained himself, so Cuddy felt it wise to steer Maddie well away.

"Let's go back to my office, it's quieter there, easier to talk," she suggested.

House looked away from Wilson again, unable to stop himself from seeking her out. This time Maddie was looking directly at him, a small smile playing on her face.

Unable to help it, he smiled back, eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure.

Cuddy put her hand on Maddie's elbow as she turned to the door and Maddie broke eye contact, giving him the slightest wink before she turned away. House grinned broadly as he watched her walk away. Sure enough, he noticed her stiff walk.

Wilson had been watching the exchange.

"_Who_ was that?" he asked incredulously. "And how do you know her?"

"I'm having dinner with her on Friday night," House said, a little proudly, deliberately neglecting to mention that he'd had dinner with her the night before as well.

"And who is she?"

"Cuddy's latest benefactor."

"Oh, I bet Cuddy's thrilled that you're dating her money," Wilson snorted.

"None of Cuddy's business," said House, defensively.

Wilson lowered his voice. "How do _you_ get a woman that looks like that?"

"Wilson, I'm hurt!" House said mockingly.

Wilson put his hands up in surrender. "You just better give me the details afterwards," he said.

* * *

_Friday night_

House found himself again at Maddie's door, this time not experiencing the jangling nerves that had accompanied his last visit. He knocked loudly, looking forward to the night ahead, already slightly aroused by his imaginings. He half-hoped they could skip the dinner part all together. He was also itching to find out more about that phone message he'd overheard, solve part of her mysteries.

The moment she answered the door he knew he was out of luck.

Maddie was almost luminescently pale against the dimness of her apartment and squinted at the light from the corridor outside. She held one finger against her lips warning him against making any loud noise.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans," she whispered. "I have a migraine."

House narrowed his eyes, his diagnostician's instincts coming to the fore. "What sort of migraine?" he asked, quietly.

Maddie winced, even his quiet, deep voice hard for her to hear. And she was embarrassed that she'd forgotten their date, embarrassed by his concern.

"Hormonal," she explained. "Happens every few months."

House found himself empathising with her. He knew when he had experienced a migraine, albeit self-induced, that the pain had been indescribable and he had just wanted everyone to leave him alone. So that's what he'd do.

"Let me know when you're feeling better," he whispered, turning and heading back to the elevator.

Maddie closed the door as quietly as she could, returning to her place on the sofa. She had closed the heavy blinds and put her pillow and quilt over the sofa cushions to make everything as dark and soft and quiet as possible.

She had suffered from migraines since puberty, but this one was the worst she could remember. The stress of the past couple of weeks she knew was a major contributing factor, but knowing that hadn't helped her feel any better when she'd been throwing up from the pain for most of the evening. Her stomach had nothing left and wouldn't accept anything either, so she hadn't been able to keep down any pain killers.

She lay down on the couch and waited for it to pass, realising that was all she could do.

House got back into his car, still lost in reverie about his own migraine experience. As awful as it had been, if it hadn't been for intravenous opiates administered by Foreman, he knew it would been even more miserable. He doubted Maddie had anything so efficacious in her home medicine cabinet.

He made an instant decision and headed the car toward home, thinking about the brown leather compendium at the top of his bookcase and the peace it was capable of granting.

* * *

Maddie couldn't believe it when she was disturbed by knocking at the door for the second time that night. She ignored it for a while, but then realised that the knocking, although persistent, was soft, as if someone was trying not to make too much noise.

She managed to raise herself from the sofa and make it to the door without fainting. Her head was spinning and standing made her nausea worse. Opening the door she saw House standing there, a paper bag in one hand, bottle of wine tucked under the other.

"Let me in," he said, pushing his way past her into the apartment.

The effort of standing tipped Maddie's nausea into overdrive. She half-shuffled, half-ran to the bathroom down the corridor, painfully slamming the door closed behind her.

House could hear the never attractive sound of retching through the door.

He walked into the kitchen, finding a bottle opener and a glass, opening the wine and pouring himself a drink. He pulled a cup of espresso coffee from the paper bag and put it into the microwave to reheat.

The sound of running water was followed by footsteps making their way back into the lounge. Maddie took a seat back on the sofa, groaning softly. House grabbed the coffee from the microwave and the paper bag and made his way into the lounge.

"What painkillers have you taken?" he asked, ensuring he modulated his voice.

Maddie looked up at him, wondering why he was here, wondering what he wanted, yet again feeling embarrassed in his presence.

"Took acetaminophen and codeine, didn't stick," she said hoarsely, throat sore from vomiting.

"Have you ever been given anything stronger?"

"A couple of time I've had morphine. In hospital."

"Any drug allergies?"

"No."

"Drink this," he handed her the coffee. "And drop your pants."

Maddie looked at him, hazily, questioningly.

House opened the paper bag again and pulled out his compendium, unzipping the edges and laying it flat on the coffee table. He removed a syringe, vial and surgical wipes, careful not to make too much noise.

Maddie nodded, understanding. Anything, at this point, that would make the pain go away had to be a good thing. A couple of fat tears welled and rolled down her face, a mixture of pain and gratitude in their wake.

He nodded to the coffee cup in her hand. "Caffeine – it'll help." He reached over and wiped one of the tears from her cheek.

Maddie sipped the lukewarm short black carefully. She stood up and pulled her yoga pants down on one side, exposing her hip and buttock.

House tore open the surgical wipe with his teeth and rubbed it on her skin. He quickly drew up a dose into the syringe, plunging it into her expertly.

"Make yourself comfortable, you'll probably fall asleep," he said quietly.

House turned and went back into the kitchen, finding an old container and putting the syringe in it before dumping it in the trash. He picked up his glass of wine and the bottle and went back into the lounge. He knew that he couldn't leave her alone after having administered opiates, he would have to stick around and make sure there were no adverse reactions.

He walked over to her bookshelves and reviewed the titles. They displayed a broad and eclectic taste in literature, everything from to Rimbaud to JK Rowling. He leeringly selected a copy of Anais Nin's_Delta of Venus_ and settled into a nearby armchair, pausing on the way to grab Maddie's wrist and check her pulse.

Maddie cracked her eyes open a fraction. She was already starting to feel better. She watched House settle into the chair with a book, placing his wine on the table next to him. He looked over at her and gave her a small smile. She smiled back and her eyes drifted closed.

* * *

When Maddie woke the next morning, she wasn't sure of the time, because the blinds were all still drawn tightly against the light. She felt almost normal again, a faint throbbing in her head and rawness in her throat the only remainders of yesterday's agony. Looking over at the empty armchair, she saw the empty wine glass and mostly empty wine bottle; signs that he really had been there.

She got up gingerly, but the good feeling held. She wandered into the bathroom, splashing water on her face and cleaning her teeth. She checked the time, realising that it was still early, not even six. Thank god it was Saturday and she didn't have to go to work.

Walking back into the lounge she grabbed her pillow and quilt, deciding to head to bed for a couple of hours.

She stopped dead in the bedroom doorway, the outline of a figure clearly visible in her bed. It was accompanied by the deep breathing of someone soundly asleep.

Maddie paused, uncertain for a moment about she should do. Then she remembered the last time she'd been in bed with him, and his smile as she'd fallen asleep the night before. Quietly, she slid into bed next to him, trying hard not to disturb his sleep. She settled into the pillows and fell asleep surprisingly quickly, his breathing a soothing metronome.

* * *

House woke up because he was hot and his leg hurt. He soon worked out why, finding that at some point during the night Maddie had joined him in the bed and their limbs were entwined. His right leg had obviously been lying in one place too long and he was also uncomfortably aware that his morning erection was pressing painfully into Maddie's hip.

He extricated himself from her, stretching out his leg and grabbing the Vicoden bottle he'd carefully left out on the bedside table. Swallowing a pill dry he lay back into the pillows, trying to rub out the pain in his leg with massage.

Maddie stirred as she felt him moving around next to her. Her head felt better, but she was a little cloudy, her thinking fuzzy.

"How are you feeling?" House said quietly, just in case.

"Much better," Maddie admitted, yawning. "I don't know how to thank you. That was the worst migraine I've ever had, but those drugs were awesome, they even took care of my cramps."

"Do you think you could stand to have the curtains open a bit?"

"Let's give it a try."

House got out of bed, padding over to the windows and opening the curtains a crack, looking back at the bed to gauge Maddie's reaction.

Daylight streamed into the room, causing Maddie to squint, but it didn't cause any increase to the slight throbbing in her head. She gave him the thumbs up.

"It's OK, but that's probably enough for now." She smiled at the sight of him as he limped back to the bed in his boxer shorts.

Back in bed, House put his arm around her and she cuddled into his side.

"When I woke up on the sofa I thought you'd gone," Maddie said. "It was a nice surprise to find you here."

"Those chairs of yours are not made for sleeping in, especially if you've got a bum leg," explained House. "It didn't look like there was enough room on the sofa for me, so this was my next best choice."

House had stayed with her in the lounge for quite a while, keeping a check on her breathing to make sure the dose didn't have any negative effects. After a couple of hours it was clear she was sleeping well, but his leg was complaining about the low-slung chair. He thought about going home, but he was sleepy after drinking most of a bottle of red, and didn't relish adding the night's chill to his aches. The bedroom was just down the hall and he remembered last time how well he'd slept in the firm bed.

"Seriously, how do you feel? Any reaction?" House lazily traced circles on her breast as he enquired.

"My head feels a bit fuzzy, kind of like I'm hung-over, and it still throbs just a little. But otherwise all good."

"Good."

His hand moved lower, over her belly and down to her underwear. Maddie put a hand out to still his.

"Uh," she paused, trying to be delicate, "hormonal migraine, remember?"

House shrugged. "Don't care." He turned on to his side to face her better, kissing her ear as his fingers edged under the seam of her underwear. "Orgasms release endorphins. Just like morphine, they make cramps _and_ headaches feel a whole lot better."

Maddie could only answer with a sigh as his kisses moved over her neck and his fingers worked magic. Later, she returned the favour, her mouth and hands providing House with his very own endorphin release.

* * *

**A/N 1: **Re: treatment of migraines. My research says that there are a number of studies that have shown that caffeine can actually have a positive effect in reducing the pain of migraine headaches, particularly in combination with acetaminophen (paracetamol). Also, I know in Distractions, when House had his migraine, Foreman didn't give him morphine. But I have been to the ER with a friend who had a migraine and she was definitely given morphine. So I decided to go with what I knew. I have no idea whether you would give someone both caffeine and morphine together, so please don't try this at home, kiddies.

**A/N 2: **Looks like I'm writing this story for myself and all two of you who are reading it! But anyway, I know it comes with the territory when you don't write the typical House/Cam stories. Hope you are enjoying it. There is lots of exciting stuff still to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who took time to leave a review or send me a message. My poor fragile writer's ego feels loved now! Really appreciate your encouragement and it has done the trick because the story is nearly finished. I'd say "enjoy" but I'm not sure that's the right thing to say about this chapter.

* * *

They'd rested for a while, then House had gotten up to make coffee and toast. Maddie had risen to help him carry everything back into the bedroom where they both settled back in, a large plate of toast with peanut butter resting between them.

They hadn't talked much, crunching their way through the toast in companionable silence. House had picked up _Delta of Venus_ and started reading again.

Maddie was about to launch into teasing him for his choice of book when the phone rang in the lounge. Maddie tensed, a piece of toast frozen on its way to her mouth.

"Ignore it," Maddie said, looking at House a little desperately. The answering machine clicked on and they could hear the message faintly but clearly.

"Maddie it's Mom again. I'm really getting sick of talking to this damned machine," the voice sighed.

In the drama of her migraine last night House had forgotten the previous phone call he'd overheard. He smiled, pleased to be getting another insight into the puzzle. He looked at her and his smile faded. Maddie looked like a rabbit in the headlights, terrified beyond reason.

"Well, your secretary told me that you went home sick, so at least I know you're alive." The voice took on a cold, accusing tone. "You knew the funeral was yesterday. I think you could have at least come to that. But you'll suit yourself, as usual.

"I know you two had your differences," Maddie coughed at that, almost choking on a mouthful of toast, "but I would have thought you could put them behind you by now. Especially with what happened."

There was a long pause, they were too far away to tell properly whether Maddie's mother was crying or just breathing heavily into the phone. When her voice came back, it was unwavering.

"Good bye."

Maddie put the piece of toast down on the plate, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She couldn't bear to take another bite. Her mind went blank, all she felt was cold and alone. Couldn't help herself from shivering.

House watched the transformation in astonishment. She'd gone from his playful bed companion, cheeks still a little pink from their earlier exertions, to a wan, shut-down child within moments.

Now he wasn't at all sure he needed to know the pieces of this particular puzzle. The enigma of Maddie Cooper suddenly struck him as a fairly nasty Pandora's box, but he was equally sure that he'd already pried the lid too far off to be able to put it back on again.

"What was that about?" he asked. He needed to ask but he also felt a creeping sense of alarm: if she answered, she was going to confide something in him, something he would, no doubt, be completely unable to deal with. As he'd frequently told those around him, he wasn't the person for this type of thing.

Maddie took deep breaths, trying to return to her previous sense of calm and – dare she say it – happiness. She didn't want to have this conversation with him – with anyone – but almost against her will the words started tumbling out of her mouth.

"Remember that day we met? I think I mentioned I'd had a bad day."

House nodded, if the situation was different he would have smiled remembering the exact phrasing she'd used at the time.

"I found out that afternoon that my father had died…" she paused, correcting herself.

"…Actually he was killed. He got into a fight at a bar. My stupid secretary told my boss and he sent me home. I didn't want to leave work, I just wanted to keep concentrating on something other than thinking about my father, lying on a barroom floor, bloody and dead.

"Somehow the best idea that occurred to me was getting drunk," she laughed bitterly.

"Oh god, Maddie, that's awful, I'm so sorry." House hugged her tightly, not sure what else to say.

"No, no, you don't understand. I was _celebrating_." Maddie shuddered. "It was the perfect ending for him. I only wish I'd been able to add an extra kick while he was lying there."

The venom in her voice was something House would never have believed possible if he hadn't heard it first-hand. He pulled back from her so he could see her face. It was set and cold, her eyes far away. He felt a chill in the pit of his stomach, certain he wasn't going to like where her story was heading.

"What did he do to you?" House asked, despite not really wanting to know the answer. He tried to imagine how he would feel when his father died; he had no idea what his emotional response would be.

"Oh, you know," Maddie said vaguely. She had a sudden memory about how good her father had been at making up stories for the emergency room. Once he even invented a second storey for their house, and a bedroom window she'd apparently fallen from when she'd been trying to sneak out.

"When I was sixteen…" she took a deep, shaky breath and decided not to go any further. "Anyway, I haven't seen him since then and that's more than enough about the Madeline Cooper family album for now."

Maddie forced herself to breathe slowly and relax her tensed muscles. She realised that she'd been grasping House's arm since the phone rang, and her knuckles were white. She let go, watching the blood return to the finger-shaped marks in his skin.

"Sorry," she said, faintly.

House looked down, only feeling the hurt now that she'd released her grip.

"That's OK." He reached over so he could rub his arm and restore the circulation without letting go of her. "So the funeral was only yesterday?"

"Yeah. They had to have an inquiry and do an autopsy so it all took a while. There's a still a police investigation going on. It was a relief to get that migraine, because it took away any choice I had. Not that I was going to go anyway." So what if she'd spent her whole day thinking about what she'd be doing if she was there; that didn't mean she actually wanted to attend. In the management meeting at two, battling the starting pangs of her headache, she'd been thinking_now I'd be in the church, listening to the priest tell lies about him_.

House silently marvelled at how the human body was capable of amazing things, even making itself sick in order to avoid emotional pain.

"Sorry, my headache's back again. Is it ok for me to take a tablet now?" she asked, wondering about the interaction with the drugs he'd given her the night before.

"Sure. You'll be fine."

Maddie got up and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She took a while, sorting herself out, taking a couple of painkillers, brushing her hair gently.

When she walked back into the bedroom, House was still lying in bed, staring at the wall, lost in thought.

He'd been thinking about his own childhood. His teen years were when things started to improve for him. As he'd grown taller, his father was less able to intimidate him. He'd kept up the verbal abuse, but the physical side had slowed down once John thought his son might be strong enough to fight back.

Lost in his musing, he was a little startled when Maddie slid back into bed next to him. It was nearly midday now, he thought it was probably time he did something with the day. All he felt like, though, was crawling back under the covers and hiding from the world and its cruelty.

Maddie must have read his mind.

"I know it's late, but I'm going to take a nap."

She snuggled down into the pillows, pulling the quilt up to her chin. She stretched one arm out to rest her hand lightly on his chest, gaining a sense of comfort from feeling his heart beat under his skin, the rise and fall of his ribs. She also did it out of fear, scared he would leave now that he knew the worst of her, scared to trust that he wouldn't use it to hurt her.

House didn't move for a while, still lost in thought. Eventually Maddie slept, her hand sliding off his chest as she relaxed into sleep.

House got out of bed, careful not to disturb her. He picked up his clothing and walked into the bathroom, relieving himself then dressing silently.

He left the apartment a few minutes later, surprised to find a light dusting of snow on the ground, the first for winter.


	7. Chapter 7

_Later that afternoon_

House was sitting at home, drinking a beer. The TV was on, but he wasn't really paying much attention. The knock at his door startled him and he had a sudden dread that it would be Maddie – he wasn't ready to see her just yet.

Limping to the door, he checked the spy hole, seeing Wilson standing in the corridor, a six-pack of beer under one arm. House groaned; he'd completely forgotten agreeing to watch the game together.

He opened the door wordlessly, leaving it open wide, and limped back to the sofa.

Wilson walked in, closing the door behind him.

"Hello to you too," Wilson said by way of greeting. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer and put the rest in the refrigerator.

He sat down on the sofa next to House, grabbed the remote control and selected the sports channel.

"So, how was your date?" Wilson asked, with all the subtlety of a house brick.

House smiled wryly and nodded. _Of course_, he thought, _Wilson conveniently wants to watch football the day after I have a date? Sure._

"OK," House answered guardedly.

"Just OK?" Wilson pressed. "Was there sex? Was it good?"

"Wilson, do you really need to know about my sex life?"

"Just the fact that you're having one is reason for celebration as far as I'm concerned." Wilson said defensively.

House was distracted, his thoughts still ranging over his night and morning with Maddie. Part of him was still a little astonished that he'd given away his morphine stash, let alone that he'd hung around to look after her. He felt slightly nervous knowing he didn't have any emergency supply until he could secure more from the hospital pharmacy on Monday. He'd also have to work out how to get Wilson to write him a prescription – something he'd worry about later.

They fell silent for a while, drinking their beers and watching the game unfold.

"It was good," House said finally, about fifteen minutes after Wilson had asked the question. He'd weighed up his answer. That morning had been pretty shit, actually, draining and painful, digging up skeletons from his own closet that he'd much prefer remained in the dark. The night before had been strange, the satisfaction he'd gained from looking after her a little confronting. Tuesday night had been blissful – the kind of night of pleasure he'd doubted he'd experience outside his 20s. And even this morning, before the phone call, had to rate as some of the best oral sex he'd received in years – including professionals. So all-in-all, he decided, 'good' just about summed it up.

Wilson pounced. "I _knew_ it! Spill!"

"She has multiple personalities," House said, apropos of nothing except his own thoughts.

"Like that girl in the movie, Carrie?" Wilson asked.

"It was Sybil, you idiot," muttered House.

"Really? Do you think she's mentally ill?" Wilson asked seriously, ignoring House's insult.

"No, not really," House said, although he still wasn't completely sure.

"Then what makes you say that?"

"She's just very…" he searched for the right word, "…different away from work."

"Most of us are, House."

"She has … family issues," he said, hesitantly.

"Like what?"

"A bad childhood, crappy parents, you know, the usual."

"You got all of that from one date?" Wilson asked.

"Two, actually. I saw her on Tuesday night too." House didn't bother mentioning the night they'd spent together after meeting in the bar, Wilson could assume they'd met at the hospital and House saw no reason to inform him otherwise.

"Hoo hoo, you have been a sly devil, haven't you? Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"You didn't ask," House said simply.

Wilson shook his head. "So, the sex _must_ be pretty good if you've gone back for more – twice in one week – despite the family complications. Tell me, what did you do last night?"

House looked at his friend disbelievingly. "Have you always been this invasive?"

"No, but then I haven't gone this long without sex before," Wilson answered. "I need vicarious satisfaction."

"Wilson, that's kind of gross," House said, rising to get another beer from the fridge. He raised his eyebrows in question to Wilson, holding up a beer. Wilson nodded.

"No sex last night, she was sick." House threw the beer at him from the kitchen, deciding not to mention that morning's activities.

Wilson caught it, opening and quickly draining the froth that started foaming from the top.

"And you took care of her? On your second date?" Wilson sounded doubtful.

"I_can_ be chivalrous you know," House was a little hurt that Wilson would be so disbelieving of his caring side.

"So you said, 'no sex last night', which means there must have been sex on Tuesday night?" Wilson wasn't letting it go.

"Give it up Wilson. I can give you a phone number." House crossed over to his desk, visibly rifling through business cards. "I'm sure 'Candy' could help what ails you…"

"OK, OK, I give up. No phone number, please. I'll let you know if things get to that stage."

House shrugged, sitting back down on the couch and turning his attention back to the game. Extremely glad Wilson had given up the twenty questions.

* * *

Maddie woke up to her empty bed in the late afternoon. She couldn't believe it was still the same day; having slept and woken three times, it felt as if far more time should have passed.

The bed on his side was cold, he'd been gone a while. She could sense from the stillness of the apartment that he wasn't there.

She got up and donned track pants, socks and a wrap-around cardigan against the winter chill that had just started making itself felt. Moving into the kitchen she put on the kettle and made a pot of tea.

Pouring herself a cup she walked out into the lounge, stopping to place her cup on the table. She wandered over to the window, staring out at the view, wondering vaguely about the lives of all the people whose homes she could see from the window.

She grabbed the back of a chair as the sobs caught her unawares. Suddenly she found herself sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forward, unable to contain her sorrow, for her mother, for her father, for her childhood.

"Oh, daddy," she whispered, tears being dragged from her almost against her will.


	8. Chapter 8

House and Maddie didn't see or talk to each other for most of the next week, despite the fact that Maddie was at the hospital every other day for meetings with Cuddy.

House and his team had landed not one, but two cases, both critically ill patients with diverse symptoms and House had barely been home all week. Despite the distractions of work, his thoughts had continued to churn, trying to decide how he felt about Maddie and her complicated situation.

Finally, late on Friday afternoon, House was on his way home, making his way past Cuddy's office as Maddie emerged.

"Greg?" she called out gently.

He turned and saw her, smiled in automatic response. He didn't think he wanted to see her – in fact he had wondered if he'd heard the last of her, that she might be too embarrassed to talk to him again – but now she was here and he was responding. Couldn't help it. His pulse even increased enough for him to notice.

"Hi. How's things going with Cuddy? You still the multi-million dollar woman?" he said jokingly, trying to cover his powerful reaction.

"For now," Maddie gave a nervous little laugh. "Dr Cuddy still loves me. It's my board that I'm having the hard time with."

House nodded, they continued walking through the hospital foyer, stopping just before the doors, not wanting to walk out into the cold until they had to.

"So you've been busy then?" he asked, awkwardly, not wanting to say good bye just yet.

"Yes, hectic week. Hopefully we're going to get this all signed and sealed tomorrow. Then life will be simpler. How about you?"

"Busy too."

"You look tired." Maddie could see the dark circles under his eyes, his whole body somehow sagging with exhaustion.

"Haven't had much sleep this week – tough case."

"Don't you have a team to help?" she asked.

"Yes, but…" House trailed off.

"How did it go? Is the person OK?" Maddie asked.

"Yep," House nodded, brightening a little. "It turned out to be a rare tropical disease the guy picked up in Panama." He looked pleased with himself, his posture straightening.

Maddie noticed the change in his demeanour.

"It's solving the puzzle that gets you, isn't it?" she asked perceptively.

"People have problems, I find solutions, it's pretty simple," House said guardedly, wondering where the conversation was heading.

"You sound like our bank's slogan: 'We find solutions to your problems'," she recited.

"Then why are you funding the cancer ward?" House asked, frowning.

"Why shouldn't we be?"

"Cancer isn't about solutions. Cancer is about treatment or palliative care. There's not much in between and very little to solve. Except a cure, of course."

Maddie could see what he was getting at. "So what _is_ about solutions?"

"Diagnostics?" House prompted. Maddie smiled.

"Or pathology. Pathology's not sexy, but it's all about finding answers, solving problems."

Maddie nodded. "Interesting perspective. Wonder if I can sell it to the board?"

"That's your specialty, not mine," House said, shaking his head.

"Can you forget what I told you that morning?" Maddie asked suddenly.

"No, I can't forget," House admitted. "But it doesn't have to matter."

Maddie smiled at him. "Thanks."

"You're not the only one with a screwed up past," he said quietly, wondering why he was admitting that, even as the words left his mouth.

She nodded, curious, but not asking for now.

"Come over to my house again," she offered, impulsively. "I promise not to have a migraine, or my period, or any further form of family drama."

House smiled. Thoughts of her mouth and hands and the friction they had…

"OK."

"I'll be working this weekend, so how's Tuesday?"

"Hmm, let me consult my diary," House said teasingly, looking up to the ceiling. "I think I can make it."

"Great. See you then."

Maddie considered leaning in to give him a quick kiss, but then thought better of it, remembering they were standing in the hospital foyer. It seemed like an identical thought crossed House's mind in the same instant. Instead they nodded awkwardly at one another, parting at the door to head to their separate vehicles.

Cuddy watched their conversation from her office door. Too far away to overhear their voices, she had to make do with body language for clues. _Damn_ she thought, after watching them head their separate ways, _he really is sleeping with my ten million dollars._

* * *

Late on Saturday afternoon, Frank Stewart, a member of the hospital board, called Maddie's cell phone to let her know he was no longer able to attend the theatre that evening.

The bank was sponsoring a theatrical production, and as a goodwill gesture to Princeton Plainsboro, Maddie had invited the entire hospital board to be part of their corporate box.

She sat playing with her phone for a while, considering whether or not to make the call. In the end she scrolled through her contacts list until she found 'Greg'.

"How do you feel about corporate entertaining?" she asked, following his gruff hello.

"Hate it with a fiery passion," he replied bluntly.

"Thought so," she smiled. "The bank is sponsoring a new theatre production, and I have a spare seat available tonight. Would you like to come?"

House paused, remembering all those times he'd teased Wilson about the only reason a man would go to a play with a woman. And see? He was right all along.

"I guess that might be all right," he said, hesitantly.

Maddie paused. She weighed up her options for a moment, before deciding that it was only fair to give him all the information, even if it might result in him changing his mind.

"I should warn you that the hospital board is also invited and this is opening night, so you don't need a tux, but probably need to… well, you know. Oh, and it's musical theatre, based on a Bollywood movie."

House took a deep breath. He detested musicals. And many of the people on that board were not his biggest fans. Not that he held deep respect for them either – they weren't his first choice of Saturday evening companionship.

"Dr Cuddy will be there. And James Wilson," Maddie added helpfully, hoping that their presence might be encouraging to him.

"Can we come back here afterwards?" House asked slyly, hoping his meaning was clear.

"Sure," Maddie lowered her voice. "I've bought new underwear. I'd really like to show it to you."

"What time will you be picking me up?"

"I'll be there by seven." Maddie hung up and grabbed her purse, hoping she'd make it to the mall to buy new lingerie before the stores closed.

* * *

House was ready by seven, tie uncomfortably tight in his buttoned-up shirt collar, already feeling anxious and annoyed about spending his Saturday night with work colleagues. He had a good three or four whiskies under his belt by the time Maddie knocked.

When he opened the door and took in the woman standing in front of him, his misgivings momentarily faded.

In-keeping with the theme of the evening, Maddie was wearing emerald green salwar kameez, the traditional Indian women's outfit of tunic top, fitted pants and long flowing scarf. The color of the fluid fabric, an exact match for her piercing eyes, in combination with her glossy, amber-coloured hair made him temporarily speechless.

"Well, are you ready?" Maddie asked, a little self-consciously. She'd dressed carefully and was feeling anxious. She was keen to show him a good night, but already knew she was facing a tough challenge. She had to admit that he did look lovely and was touched that he had obviously made an effort for her, although, she noted, that hadn't quite extended to shaving. His pale blue shirt was both ironed and tucked in – to his trousers, not jeans. He was wearing a red tie, a little conservative she thought, but the overall effect was pleasing.

Except. He looked so uncomfortable. So not himself.

House coughed a little, unsettled by her close observation of him. "Right," he said. "Let's get this over with." He grabbed his leather jacket for warmth, a suit jacket being just too much for him to manage.

They walked out the front of House's apartment where a chauffeur held the door to a limo open to them. House looked at her dubiously.

"Isn't this all a bit high school?"

"You might think differently when we're on our way home," Maddie whispered in his ear.

House smiled and held out his arm to help her into the car.

* * *

Both Wilson and Cuddy turned to stare as House and Maddie made their way across the theatre foyer. Albeit for different reasons: Cuddy amused and smug that her deduction had been right and they obviously _were_ a couple; Wilson just purely gob-smacked by Maddie's appearance.

"Why on earth did Cuddy invite him?" Frank Wright, deputy chair of the hospital board, stage-whispered furiously to his colleague on seeing House enter.

Wilson, within hearing distance, turned to them and spoke witheringly, feeling protective of both House and Cuddy.

"I think _the bank_ felt it appropriate to invite a range of senior doctors from the hospital, Frank."

Wright, chastised, fell silent.

Maddie and House approached the group. Maddie gave Cuddy a kiss on the cheek in greeting, shaking hands with Wilson and a couple of the other doctors standing nearby. House stood back, pretending to be engaged in reading the show program he'd picked up inside the door.

Cuddy immediately remarked on Maddie's outfit.

"I've been working closely with the production crew and they gave it to me as a gift," Maddie explained. "It is gorgeous, isn't it?"

The women continued to talk, grabbing glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. They then wandered over to greet other members of the hospital board in the vicinity.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Wilson sidled up to House.

House looked up, pretending to have only just noticed Wilson was there.

"Oh well, if it's good enough for Richard Gere." He shrugged.

"Maddie's really looking gorgeous," Wilson said, a touch of jealousy evident in his voice.

House puffed out his chest just a little in pride. "She scrubs up all right. As do I," he fished.

"Yes, you certainly have gone all out. Ironed shirt, I noticed. And isn't that the tie I bought you for court?"

Maddie interrupted them.

"Gentlemen, would you excuse me for a moment? I have to go meet some people from the production. I'll be back before we have to go in." She held up her champagne flute in example. "In the meantime, help yourselves."

Maddie walked over to a group of Indian women, beautiful as tropical fish, dressed in brightly coloured saris.

"Who is that?" Wilson muttered to House. House turned to follow his stare, tracing his longing look towards a beautiful dark-haired woman in an aqua and silver sheath of fabric.

"That, my friend, is the star of our little performance tonight," House said swatting Wilson on the arm with the program.

As they watched, Maddie walked up to the star and they gave each other a warm hug.

Only House was close enough to hear Wilson let out a barely audible groan.

"Who knows, Wilson, maybe we can fix you up. I'm sure she comes with a great dowry," House mocked.

The men stood watching the crowd, sipping their champagne, both lost in their own thoughts momentarily. After a moment, the Indian women turned, almost as a group, and headed to a stage door. It left House and Wilson feeling as if they'd witnessed a tropical aquarium pass by.

Maddie turned back and joined Cuddy who was talking with Frank Wright. She walked up and shook hands with the older man, smiling at him flirtatiously and making some comment that made him smile greasily at her.

"I've always hated that Wright," House said poisonously.

"Yeah, me too," agreed Wilson. House looked at him, surprised.

"Really?"

The theatre warning bells interrupted their conversation before House could learn more, noisily instructing them to take their seats. Maddie excused herself and made her way back to Wilson and House.

She smiled at them both.

"Shall we head into the box?" She gestured for Wilson to go first and he headed towards the doors.

House and Maddie followed, walking side-by-side but looking straight ahead and talking blandly about the night's performance. Cuddy, walking behind them with Wright gabbing in her ear, was the only one who noticed when the two moved closer to each other. House traced his hand gently down Maddie's arm, his thumb running along the inside of her wrist. As he reached her fingertips, she entwined her fingers with his, before they both let go and their arms returned to their sides. It lasted only a second, but Cuddy thought it was one of the sweetest things she'd seen in a very long time.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for keeping those reviews coming - they really do make my day! Stay tuned for the next chapter when things get both steamy and a little disturbing... 


	9. Chapter 9

House and Maddie settled back into the limo after the performance, which, House had been pleased to note, hadn't been too painful after all. The color, dancing and spectacle kept the show moving from start to finish, so it hadn't dragged at all.

Maddie reached across and ran a finger down House's cheek.

"There's something I've been dying to do all night," she said breathily, leaning towards him.

House caught his breath, not really sure how he felt about making out in a limousine. What if the driver could hear or see?

Maddie's fingers deftly reached to his collar and loosened his tie before undoing the top button of his shirt. She then loosened the tie further, pulling the knot undone and unthreading it from his collar. She threw the tie on the floor of the car.

"There. That's better. It's been killing me watching you pull at that all night as if it was strangling you. I've almost felt like I was the one being choked." Maddie was relieved to see House somewhat back to the way he should be. Putting him in a tie was like putting a collar on a wild animal: unnecessary and cruel.

House laughed. "I'm not really a tie person," he said, looking at the limp shape lying on the floor. "But Wilson bought me that one and I have a feeling it was pretty expensive."

"OK, so we won't leave it in the car," Maddie said. "In fact, maybe we can think of some interesting things to do with it once we get home?" She gave him a suggestive wink.

* * *

In the apartment, Maddie went into the kitchen to pour them both a drink, while House went to the bathroom. When emerged back into the lounge, Maddie was sitting on a wooden kitchen chair she'd moved next to the piano, a glass of whisky in each hand. She reached out to hand him one and he took it gratefully.

She'd removed the pants and scarf of her outfit, leaving just the tunic top. The top reached down to above her knees, but its side splits went to the top of her hip bones. Each time she moved, more of her legs were revealed and the lacy edges of her underwear peeked through.

House's red tie was draped around her neck.

She rose slowly from the chair, and moved towards him, draining her glass and indicating that he should do the same.

House gulped the liquid, warmth immediately spreading down his throat. The sensations in his mouth were soon amplified by the feeling of Maddie's tongue invading his lips.

While kissing him, Maddie took the glass out of his hand, moving away briefly to set both down on the coffee table. She moved back and, pushing lightly on his chest, encouraged him to sit down. She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding the sleeves down his arms, revealing his bare chest.

House sat on the chair, pulling her head down to him to continue their kiss. He deepened it, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in imitation of what his body wanted to do to her.

Maddie pulled back and artfully drew the silk tie around her neck and into her hands. Moving to the back of the chair, she caressed his shoulders and arms from behind, pulling them to her until she could get his wrists close together. Quickly she threaded the fabric through the slats of the chair and around his wrists, tying a firm knot.

House tried to pull free, but discovered he was comfortably but definitely restrained. He started to feel uneasy.

"Uh, Maddie," he started.

"Shhhh. I'll stop whenever you want me to." Maddie moved around to face him again, leaning down to unbuckle his belt and unthread it from his pants. Once she had the belt free, she started trailing it over his chest, flicking it lightly.

House again struggled against the bonds.

"Um, stop," he said, when he discovered he was still unable to free himself, an edge of panic in his voice. Maddie paused, looking at him uncertainly.

"Maddie, I don't do pain. If that's what you've got planned, I mean." Although he was keeping a pretence of playfulness, his voice was flat, lacking his normal cocky confidence. "I don't get off on pain. I wish I did," he snorted ruefully. "But I've got enough of it in my life without wanting someone to do it to me deliberately."

Maddie looked closely into his eyes. She could see he was trying hard to keep things light but beneath the surface was a very clear emotion that Maddie was shocked to recognise: fear.

House tried to swallow a rapidly rising swell of nausea. When he was a child a number of the 'punishments' his father had designed for him had involved him being trapped in some way: locked in the garage overnight, shut in a cupboard for an afternoon, weighed down in a bath full of ice. As a result – not that he'd admit it – he had a keen case of claustrophobia. Any sense of feeling trapped did nothing but provoke a childhood sense of fear, like a nightmare slowly coming to life.

The realisation struck her as if physical: of course he was scared of pain. He spent his life taking those stupid pills and drinking like a fish to numb the pain he was already in. But there was something more, something desperate in his eyes.

She moved into him, the belt falling from her hands to land with a dull thud on the floor. She kissed him softly on the forehead, brushing her hand through his hair gently.

"I won't hurt you," she whispered, wondering if she could keep that promise, wondering if he could say the same to her. She leaned down and untied him, rubbing his wrists with her hands. She recognised that fear, she'd seen it in her own reflection. House was the only person who she'd let near her in years. Physical pain or emotional pain, she was terrified of someone hurting her – and petrified about what she might do to someone who did.

House looked at her, not sure if he could continue the sex play. Something had just happened, he'd shared something he hadn't meant to and so, he thought, had she.

Maddie stood up in front of him and pulled her tunic off, revealing her burgundy red lace bra and thong. House looked at her carefully, trying to read what she was thinking. For the first time he noticed the faint line of a surgical scar across her belly. He reached out and traced it with a finger, raising an eyebrow in silent question. From its position it could have been a number of things, stomach, spleen, pancreas.

"A reminder of some pain of my own," she said quietly in response.

House nodded and knew that despite his discomfort, he still wanted to take her into his bedroom and make her cry out his name.

Maddie held out a hand to help him up and wrapped an arm around him as they walked to the bedroom, unobtrusively acting as his support, his cane left abandoned in the lounge. Once there, she watched as he removed the rest of his clothes and her own until they were stretched out on the bed next to each other, skin on skin, mouths exploring hotly.

Even with the failed foreplay both of them were in no desire to wait. He rolled her on her back, pushing into her, his movements rough and quick. Maddie groaned, at first at the discomfort, but then at the pleasure as her body adjusted to him. She ground her pelvis into him, his almost suffocating weight on her a welcome burden.

House had stopped thinking clearly, but he knew in some part of his mind that he was being rough, inconsiderate. He also knew that was what they both wanted, needed, and he continued his urgent thrusting.

Maddie wrapped her legs around him, pushing her heels into the back of his legs, deepening the penetration, urging him on, her mouth not leaving his for a moment. She could feel the roughness of his scar against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and the slight tremble in his right leg as it struggled to support his movement.

The weight of his body on her, his frantic movements, his tongue in her mouth matching his thrusts… Maddie shuddered and came, jerking into him, gasping into his mouth. The contractions of her muscles around him was the final push he needed and House groaned loudly, releasing himself into her, feeling the hot fluid overflowing even as he continued to thrust.

He collapsed on top of her, his full weight on her body, face buried in her neck. Maddie reached both arms around to hug him even tighter to her, as if trying to merge their bodies into one. They lay still and panting, House still twitching inside her as his orgasm subsided.

Finally Maddie's lungs started protesting at the struggle to expand with his weight on her ribs and she released him reluctantly. He rolled onto his back without looking at her.

Maddie laughed softly, uncertain what had just happened.

"So, how was it for you?" she joked, feebly, pulling the bedcovers back over them and lying back.

House didn't answer, just sought out her hand under the quilt. He grabbed it tightly in his and closed his eyes, not sure what to say to her. Suddenly he found himself confessing something, the urge to tell her strong but inexplicable.

"My dad…" he began, taking in a deep breath before continuing.

"Shhh," said Maddie. "I know." And she did. She realised as soon as he'd started to speak that she'd known all along. She wondered fleetingly whether that was what had drawn them together in the first place.

They both lay still and quiet, hands clasped together like children afraid of the dark.

* * *

Later that night, Maddie woke from a panicky nightmare. The silence was deep, so she guessed it must be the early hours of the morning. House was sleeping soundly next to her.

The nightmare threads were still with her, making it impossible for her to fall back to sleep straight away. She got up quietly, doing her best not to disturb him, closing the bedroom door softly and padding down to the lounge.

She turned on a lamp and curled up on the sofa trying to recall the dream. She'd often found that recalling the details of nightmares somehow robbed them of their power, gave her a way to mock the terrifying images her own brain produced.

In the dream she'd been inside a house, one she didn't recognise. Someone was trying to get inside and she had to stop them, running from one door to the next to lock it. But she didn't know where all the doors were, so she had started getting frightened that she had missed one. And, like some kind of twisted video game, each time she managed to get to a door she had less time to get to the next one before the evil what-ever-it-was got inside.

She remembered a strange detail: the house had been filled with ferns. Different kinds of ferns, but at times they were so thick and bushy that she had trouble getting through them to find the doors she had to lock. Maddie smiled at herself, thinking how ridiculous it was to have dreamt about malevolent ferns.

The bottle of whisky and their two glasses from earlier in the night were still on the coffee table. Maddie poured herself a shot, shuddering a little as it went down.

She wondered whether her dream had any relationship to recent events in her life. If there was a link she couldn't see it. Nightmares about her father had stopped in her mid-twenties and, until the day she'd found out he'd died, he was a long-gone, shadowy figure in her history. Now, at nearly forty years old, she'd spent more of her life away from him than with him. Her reaction over the past couple of weeks had surprised her – she had been positive all of the 'processing' of her childhood was well behind her.

Fortified by both the whisky and the thought of the ridiculous evil plants, she returned to the bedroom and slipped into bed quietly, hugging herself to warm up. Sleep proved elusive for a while longer. In the end, she focussed on the sound of House's breathing, trying to match her own breaths to his. It must have worked, because she didn't remember anything more until morning.


	10. Chapter 10

At lunchtime on Monday, Maddie emerged from the boardroom on the top floor of the bank's headquarters. She grabbed the elevator and headed straight down to the coffee shop on the ground floor. Purchasing an Earl Grey tea and an extremely large chocolate chip cookie, she sat in a corner table, just taking a few minutes out for herself before she returned to her office and her demanding email inbox.

On days like today Maddie adored her job; thrived on it; glowed from it. She'd been articulate, prepared, on message. She'd even had the financials ready for when that old cow Margaret Sloan had tried to pick on her math, so giving up her weekend to crunch the numbers had been worth it.

Even cock-head John Anderson had been won over in the end.

She couldn't wait for the meeting tomorrow with Dr Cuddy and the hospital board.

* * *

Tuesday

The next day, House was in his office, wasting time, his team in the conference room. He could overhear them talking, but wasn't really paying attention until Foreman spoke.

"Hey did you hear the gossip? You know that woman from the bank that's been with Cuddy all last week?" House sat up straighter in the chair, sliding on its wheels to get to a better vantage point. _How could they know about us yet?_ he wondered. He figured that someone might have picked up something when they'd walked into the theatre together on Saturday, but other than arriving at the same time, they'd done nothing to betray their connection.

"What? The hot red head?" Chase asked. House smiled to himself despite his irritation about his private life being hospital gossip. He did a little dance in his chair: _Oh yeah, I got what Chase wants, I got what Chase wants_.

Cameron made a disapproving clucking noise in response to Chase's comment.

"Well," Foreman continued, "it was her father that Walters killed in that bar fight."

House froze in the midst of his victory dance. _What?_ He'd been certain that they were about to talk about him. But then he realised that didn't make sense. They knew he could hear them with the door open, so they wouldn't be gossiping about Maddie if they had any idea he was involved with her.

"Really?" Chase sounded intrigued.

"Who's Walters?" Cameron asked.

Foreman and Chase sighed in unison.

"Haven't you been watching the news?" Foreman asked irritably. "Walters, the major league baseball star that's been charged with murder. He got into a brawl in a bar in New York and killed a guy."

"Oh, poor Maddie," said Cameron.

_Trust Cameron to know her name, _thought House.

"Trust you to know her name," echoed Foreman unknowingly.

"I met her Dr Cuddy's office last week. She seemed really nice." Cameron sounded defensive.

"It would suck to have your dad killed that way," Chase mused.

"And then have the media all over it," Foreman added.

"Why do the media want to talk to her?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know, but she came to the hospital this morning and there was a pack of microphones and cameras following her from her car to the front door. A nurse who was there told me that Cuddy sent down security so they couldn't get inside."

Chase speculated, "I guess when there's a famous murderer the media look for the human angle, you know, the grieving daughter and all that."

House made a loud 'ch' noise of disgust. _Grieving daughter indeed_.

* * *

Having been greeted at her front door first thing in the morning by a pack of cameras and microphones, Maddie managed to hail a cab and get to the office. They were camping out there for her too, but luckily building security was keeping things in check. There was only one meeting that meant she had to leave the building, a presentation to the hospital board, so other than that she could hide in her office for most of the day. 

Her plans for the evening on the other hand … she shook her head in regret at yet another misstep in whatever she and House were doing. She dialled a couple of times before letting the call connect until she was sure her voice wouldn't betray her emotion by wavering.

"Hi," she said when he answered.

"Hi. Doing OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, a little hollow laugh giving away her lie.

"I heard you have a paparazzi fan club today."

"Oh yes, it's been a barrel of fun. It almost made me wish…" Maddie cut herself off.

House could guess, she'd been about to say 'that he hadn't died'.

"So anyway," she continued, "you know how I promised not to have any further family drama, amongst other things?"

"Yes?"

"Well, looks like my promises aren't to be trusted. Can we take a raincheck on tonight?"

"Sure." House agreed, both disappointed and relieved. He had no desire to have cameras or microphones directed his way, and yet his very carnal side had been anticipating the night since they'd parted on Sunday morning.

"I think that'd be best. There'll still be media camped outside my apartment for the next twenty-four hours or so. Until the next big scandal breaks, anyway."

"Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for something big to happen to Britney and Kevin."

Despite herself, Maddie laughed. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

"No problems."

"Oh and Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"When Cuddy comes to thank you, just be gracious and say 'you're welcome'."

"What?"

"I'll call you tomorrow, bye."

House stared at the phone, puzzled.

* * *

The situation became clear later that afternoon, when Cuddy and Wilson came into his office after an all-day hospital board meeting. Cuddy was practically bouncing, her eyes sparkling and her mouth unable to contain her smile. 

"House, you know that time you broke the MRI and cost me a million dollars?"

"Ye-e-e-s," House said hesitantly, wondering where this was going.

"And then because of you we lost Vogler's money – about a hundred million?"

"I seem to recall that."

"Well you're not even close to evening up the tally, but you did just score us ten million dollars for pathology." Cuddy was trying to be stern, but failing miserably.

"Maddie?" he asked.

"Yes, she convinced the APAC board to make a bequest to pathology. And she told me you might have had something to do with that."

"I'm glad she showed them where their money would do the most good," House said honestly. "The cancer ward didn't need it."

"No, you don't understand," said Wilson, muscling in on the conversation. He'd been in the hospital board meeting with Cuddy when Maddie had made the announcement.

"The bank's decided to donate twenty million dollars in total, ten to cancer, ten to pathology."

House looked surprised, then smiled. "She's an impressive gal."

"I'll say. What with everything that's going on in her life at the moment," Cuddy frowned. "I can't believe all that was happening when we were negotiating. She never even mentioned it."

"No," said Wilson, his tone implying irritation with House, "and nor did anyone who might have known."

* * *

Cuddy left, further board business to attend to, while Wilson made himself comfortable in the chair opposite House's desk. 

"Well, all I can say is that you must be an impressive fuck," Wilson said laughing as soon as Cuddy left the office.

House looked both proud and puzzled – he was uncomfortably expecting either a grilling or a lecture from his old friend, just not quite sure which.

"I mean, if you having sex with benefactors produces an extra ten million dollars then I think Cuddy's going into business as your pimp." He laughed again, amused by his own wisecrack.

House couldn't help but grin too.

"It's all in the tongue," he confided.

Wilson grimaced. "Ugh! Too much information. Now I'm going to have horrible images of you and Sir Peterson in my head," he said, referring to one of the hospital's very old and doddery donors.

"So, how are things with Maddie?" Wilson asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Good thanks," House answered cagily, realising they were getting to the grilling/lecture bit of the conversation.

"Good thanks?" Wilson's echoed disbelievingly. "Her father was killed in a bar fight by a celebrity and she's being hounded by press and things are 'good thanks'?" Wilson blew out his cheeks in frustration.

House recoiled a little, immediately on the defensive.

"Of course things are not 'good thanks', it was just my tactful way of saying 'none of your goddamn business'," he said snarkily.

Wilson looked a little chastised. "OK, I'm not meaning to pry, but I was just wondering how you were going with all this stuff that's happening. I was _trying_ to express concern for you. Both of you."

House looked at Wilson, wondering for about the millionth time why Wilson cared so much about their friendship. He couldn't see what he could possibly get out of it. The thought brought more sympathetic, appreciative feelings to the fore.

"We were supposed to be seeing each other tonight, but she's cancelled. The media hordes have been a bit much and she didn't want me to have to get involved as well," House said, a peace offering of information.

Wilson recognised House's response for what it was and his frustration left him instantly.

"It must be very hard for her, grieving for her father in public like that," he said.

"In some ways," House said vaguely.

"And you two must have met straight after he died – did she tell you right away?" Wilson's curiosity couldn't resist trying to dig for more details.

"We met the night he died. She was getting drunk to forget. But she didn't tell me til later." House had a brief flashback to that morning in bed, the sickness he'd felt hearing her story.

"I thought you met at the hospital?"

"No, at a bar; that night a few weeks ago that you took me out for a drink after mistress Cuddy had maltreated me."

Wilson thought back. "Really? Is that when it started?"

"Not really, we didn't get together until after we met again at the hospital," House admitted, starting to get uncomfortable with the amount of information Wilson was pumping out of him.

"That's like something out of _Grey's Anatomy_," Wilson joked.

House gave him a curious look – the book or the show?

"You know at the start, they get drunk together and then they meet at the hospital…" Wilson took in House's scornful look. "Oh, never mind."

Secretly House was thrilled to find out that Wilson had a TV show weakness and he stored the information away for later ridiculing purposes.

"She's really…" House trailed off, not sure what he was going to say.

Wilson waited, eyebrows raised in question.

"…hot," House admitted finally, with a deep breath out.

Wilson did a little shake of his head, had he heard that right?

"What do you mean, hot?" Wilson asked, knowing exactly what he meant.

"I mean _hot_. I mean I can't get enough. I know that with all this shit that's going on that I should be running in the opposite direction screaming, but for some reason every time she calls, I say 'yes'." House still hadn't worked out himself why he was hanging around, why he kept agreeing to go out with her. She'd even got him to go to an evening of corporate musical theatre with the hospital board – his idea of the fifth circle of hell.

"Well, of course, it is very easy to say 'no' to an attractive, intelligent woman who wants to have sex with you," Wilson said sarcastically.

House rolled his eyes. "That's not _quite_ what I meant. Yes, the sex is good…" he leant forward conspiratorially, "…actually it's mind-blowing." He paused for Wilson's look of appreciation mingled with barely concealed jealousy, "But she's got too much going on. If it wasn't for the sex, I don't know..."

Wilson studied him. "Are you sure this isn't just a case of 'once bitten'?" Wilson was certain that what was unnerving House was that this was the first time since Stacy that he'd feelings for a woman outside of the purely carnal.

"What about that night you told me she was sick?" he asked, still curious that House would take care of a woman he barely knew outside the confines of his role as a doctor.

"She had a migraine. No big deal," House said defensively. "I gave her some morphine, so I couldn't exactly disappear and let it depress her respiratory system with no one there to notice.

"Besides, I got some then, too." House couldn't resist adding.

"What when she was unconscious?" Wilson exclaimed.

House didn't dignify the question with a response, just glared at Wilson witheringly.

"I don't know House, it seems like more than just sex to me. You've been… I don't know… calmer than usual recently."

"Yeah, maybe." House murmured, not believing it.

"Well, for what it's worth, you two seem like a good match to me. She's smart, professional and, as you so elegantly put it, _hot_. What's happening now is temporary, things will calm down."

"There more to it than you know," House said.

"Like what?"

"Her family situation is… complicated." House realised he really wanted Wilson's opinion on how he should proceed with Maddie. He knew he wasn't capable of helping her with what she was going through. Wilson on the other hand, would know exactly what to do, know the perfect thing to say.

"I don't think I can help her the way she needs," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"She and her father didn't get along."

"Well, you certainly know all about that," Wilson said, knowing a little of House's relationship with his own father. "I'm sure you can empathise."

"My father's still alive," he said. "And I have actually set eyes on him since I was sixteen."

"Ah," Wilson paused. House was obviously trying to protect Maddie's confidentiality and Wilson didn't want to guess what might have been the cause of the family rift.

"Look House, all of us have our skeletons, some are just better hidden than others. Hers just happen to have come out of the closet to dance for a bit. You probably need to get her to see a counsellor or something though," Wilson advised. "I think that if you want to keep seeing her, then you'll just have to hang around and see what happens."

House sighed. _So 'patience' was Wilson's advice_. Patience was the one thing he was worst at.

And yet…


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry to anyone that I might have confused with my last messy chapter posting. I accidentally posted the last chapter to my old story, Too Much Too Soon, and then had to delete it from there and add it to here, which somehow I think I manage to do twice. All I'm saying is don't go posting if you've been drinking pinot noir with my sister. She's a bad influence.

* * *

As soon as Wilson left his office, House picked up the phone and dialled Maddie's cell. 

"Are you still at work?" he asked as soon as she answered.

"Yes, but I'm about to leave. Why?"

"How about you avoid the media hounds and come to my place tonight instead? They won't think to look for you there. I could even come to pick you up so they don't follow your car – you have a basement car park in your building, right?"

"Oh, Greg, that's a really nice offer, but are you sure you want to get yourself messed up in this?" Maddie could think of nothing better she'd like than to avoid the questions and cameras, but she knew it was a lot to ask. If they followed her, or somehow found out where she was, he'd be just as hounded.

"I don't care – it sounds like fun to me." House had to admit, he was kind of excited by the idea of a media car chase, him out-gunning them all on his bike, Maddie's hair streaming out behind them as they raced away into the dark.

"Well, if you're sure," Maddie still sounded hesitant.

"Organise with your security guys to let me in to your car park and I'll meet you inside the entrance." House was strategising now. "Tell them I'll use the codename _Red Baron_ and that I'll say I've come to pick up _Snoopy_."

Maddie laughed at his silliness, such a relief after her stressful day she felt tears prick at her eyes.

"I don't think code names are necessary, but I will let them know you are coming. You can say who you are and just tell them you are picking up a package in case there's anyone in the vicinity who might overhear." Maddie smiled as she hung up, imaging explaining code names to Victor, their burly head of security, who'd assumed the role of her personal body guard since the first media crews had followed her to her building that morning.

Forty minutes later, Maddie was standing inside the entrance to the basement car park, Victor by her side.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Miss Cooper?" he said; about the fourth time he'd asked since she'd called and outlined House's plan to him.

"Thanks Victor, I'm sure it will be fine."

The roar of a motorbike pierced the silence of the concrete cave. A bright orange Honda revved its way through the security gates. House spotted Maddie and the security guard immediately and drove over, stopping in front of her and killing the engine.

Maddie looked at him in shock. "A motorbike?"

"Yeah," House said, proudly, admiring his pride and joy.

"I wasn't expecting a motorbike." She looked down, holding out the seam of her fitted, knee-length skirt.

House just smiled wickedly at her. "You'll just have to hitch it up."

"Greg, I'll freeze," she protested.

"No you won't, if we get home fast."

"Miss Cooper, I could get one of the guards to drive you home, you know, and I'm sure they'd make sure you got inside OK," Victor asserted. "It would be much safer for you."

"Miss Cooper is coming home with me, thanks…" House peered at his name tag, "…Victor."

Maddie turned to Victor and to his surprise, gave him a light peck on the cheek.

"Thank you Victor, you've been very sweet to me today. I really appreciate everything you've done and I hope things will have calmed down by tomorrow, for both our sakes."

Victor blushed a little, but frowned, keeping his professional manner intact.

"You're very welcome." He turned and walked away, but not before giving House a daggers stare.

Maddie hitched the strap of her purse over her head so it was crossways over her body. House tossed her a helmet, helping her to fasten the chin strap. She hiked her skirt up and straddled the bike behind him. House raised his eyebrows in appreciation of the tops of her stockings and suspenders that were now clearly visible.

"Please don't go too fast," she said. "I'm not good on these things."

"Sorry, what was that?" House asked, pulling her arms tight around him, then revving the engine and taking off at a roar up the basement ramp.

* * *

Maddie was shaking a little by the time they got inside House's apartment. She wasn't sure whether it was relief at escaping unseen, the fact that her legs had been turned into icicles by the wind, or just sheer terror from the ride there. 

"Wasn't it cool when we sped past those news crews?" House asked, his eyes bright with excitement. "They didn't even give us a second look."

"No, I imagine they don't expect to find the head of corporate affairs on the back of a motorbike with her lingerie on show to the world," she said, her teeth beginning to chatter. "I'm freezing," she complained. "My legs are numb. I need a whisky."

"Coming up," House said. "And much as I'd love you to stay in those stockings, I'm sure I can find you some track pants or something." He hobbled up the corridor, returning with track pants, a sweater and a pair of thick socks.

"Bathroom's that way if you want to have a shower to warm up a bit," he gestured up the corridor. His eyes narrowed and he grinned, "But then I guess you already know that."

Maddie slapped him playfully with the socks, making her way to his bedroom to change.

"Will I order a pizza?" House called after her.

"As long as I can have anchovies," she called back.

"A woman after my own heart!" House exclaimed, rifling through his desk for a pizza delivery menu.

She returned to the lounge, warmer but feeling a little ridiculous. The pants were not bad length-wise, given her height, but the socks hung off the end of her toes and she'd had to roll up the top's sleeves.

Of course all House noticed was how her breasts made lovely mounds in his sweater. He handed her a glass of whisky and she downed it in one. He picked up the phone and dialled, placing their order.

"About thirty minutes, apparently," he said, placing the phone back in the receiver.

"Do you have any red wine?" she asked. "I really feel like sitting on the sofa with a nice glass of wine and some stupid television."

"Is there any other kind of television?" House asked, making his way into the kitchen, opening a cupboard and pulling out a dark bottle.

Maddie helped herself to his Scotch, pouring another measure and drinking it quickly.

He brought the wine and a couple of glasses and set them down on the coffee table, falling back heavily into the sofa. Maddie joined him on the sofa, reaching over to pour them both a glass.

She sat back, tucking her feet beneath her.

"Thanks for rescuing me," she said gratefully, looking him in the eyes.

"You are very welcome principessa," he answered.

"I thought you were supposed to have a white horse, though, not an orange Honda" she joked, leaning in to kiss him.

He caught her around her shoulders, pulling her into him, deepening their kiss. He was still caught up in his own chivalry and was surprised to find its major side-effect was to make him extremely horny. After a moment Maddie pulled back, not wanting to go too far too early.

House looked at her, her flushed face beautiful, still honestly wondering why he felt so drawn to her.

"Just be thankful I met you in the basement and didn't make you throw down your hair like Rapunzel," he said, turning on the TV and flicking between shows. Almost instantly he landed on a news station.

"…_taken into custody. Walters' lawyers say he will be contesting the charges, saying that he was acting in self-defence_…" House quickly switched to another channel, the TV then blaring with the colors and sound effects of a children's cartoon.

"He probably was," Maddie muttered, getting up from the sofa and absently wandering around the room.

House looked at her.

"Have you thought that you might need some help to deal with all this?" he asked, hesitantly. He was fully aware of his own hypocrisy, of the number of times others had urged him to seek psychological assistance, the number of times he'd downright refused. But he also knew that she did need to talk about things and despite Wilson's pep talk, he still didn't want to be the one she turned to.

"Oh no," Maddie laughed bitterly. "I've always found that ignoring things and pretending everything is OK works much better for me. You know, 'path of least resistance' and all that."

"Yeah, I have a similar philosophy," he agreed, reluctantly.

"Right!" she said with false cheer. "So if we weren't hiding from the paparazzi and avoiding the news, what would we be doing? I, for one, think we'd eat pizza, drink wine, talk about our favourite books and then have sex. How does that sound to you?"

House shrugged, at least he could tell Wilson he'd tried.

"I'm pretty happy with that," he agreed.

* * *

_The next morning_

Maddie woke to the feel of a strong arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her back across the bed.

"Hey," she said sleepily, annoyed at being woken. But then the feeling of the warmth of his body as he wrapped himself around her made her forgive the interruption to her sleep. She snuggled back into him, trying to recapture the threads of the dream she'd been immersed in.

"Good morning," a rough voice whispered into her ear.

"Shhh. Sleeping," she replied quietly.

They were both naked. She'd caught some strands of the dream but now they were irrevocably intertwined with the feel of his chest hairs tickling her back, the lazy caress of his hand on her breast, and the insistent touch of his erection on her thigh.

"That's OK, you stay sleeping. I'll give you some nice dreams," House whispered, inhaling her smell, intoxicated by the touch of her skin. He'd woken from some nice dreams himself and was delighted that he could act on the feelings they'd evoked.

She obliged when he placed his broad hand on her hip, guiding her to reposition slightly. Still slick from the previous night's lovemaking, he slipped inside her easily. The angle made penetration shallow but sweet. He moved inside her slowly.

Her dreams changed pace, filled with snippets of images and a warm feeling, she had the sense of walking on a grassy slope with the sun on her back; at the same time still aware of the pillow against her cheek and the feel of him against her, filling her.

House's movements quickened; his breathing moving through her hair and past her ear. Trees appeared on the grassy slope, the wind rushing through the leaves. She stopped to pick up a leaf and held it up to the sun to see its framework, the leaf beneath the leaf, the real thing inside.

There was a quiet groan and spreading warmth, his breath slowly retuning to normal. In her almost-dream, Maddie marvelled at the leaf skeleton, a fragile and beautiful thing. She peered closely at the leaf and it had turned to gold, sparkling in the sunshine. She smiled.

"You're the best alarm clock I've ever owned," she murmured, belying that statement by falling back to sleep almost immediately.

--

* * *

A/N: (Another one) I just felt I need to explain that I think House using diminutives (like darling, baby, honey, sweetheart, etc) is one of the most out-of-character things ever. But in this chapter I really wanted him to call Maddie 'princess' to carry through the whole fairy tale rescue thing. I hope you'll agree that 'prinicpessa' (Italian for princess) is an OK exception. 


	12. Chapter 12

Maddie had to admit that her day had begun far better than the one before.

Starting the morning with House inside her had been heavenly. Then, despite getting up late and realising that she had no change of clothes or toiletries with her, she had rescued her crumpled camisole and buttoned up her jacket in an effort to make yesterday's suit look somewhat different. She washed her face and applied the mascara that was always in her handbag.

House assured her she looked gorgeous and Maddie had to admit that she had scrubbed up better than she had expected, whether it was the sex or a good night's sleep, she had a nice little glow to her complexion that had been missing for a while.

When she got to work, dropped off once again by her knight on shining Honda, the media were no where to be seen. In celebration, House promised to take her to his favourite blues bar that evening. Maddie wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or more nervous. It was entirely possible that they'd found a new, easier to pursue angle and decided she wasn't worth the trouble. But that in itself was worrying – what might they have dug up instead?

She'd spent the morning working on plans for the hospital funding announcement. Scheduled for just two weeks' time, she had a great deal of work still to do organising the finer details, writing the media release, liaising with her senior management team. But she was genuinely looking forward to it and attacked her 'to do' list with enthusiasm.

Unfortunately the afternoon didn't continue in the same vein. At around two, her secretary Elaine called to ask if Maddie wanted to accept a call from her mother. Maddie took a deep breath. She'd put it off long enough and at least today she wasn't feeling quite as fragile as she had been. She told her secretary she'd take the call.

"Madeline Cooper."

"Maddie you know very well it's me, I know Elaine put me through." Great, her mother was already irritated.

"Sorry mom," Maddie apologised.

"I don't know why you can't just give me your cell phone number, heaven knows it would be easier for me to catch you."

"Mom, I've explained before that it's best to call me in the office or at home – on the cell I'm generally out for work or in a meeting, so it's difficult to talk," Maddie said patiently, trying to keep her temper in check. She knew she didn't really have a good reason for not giving her mother her cell number, just that she didn't want her to call on it.

"I've decided I don't want to talk to you about the funeral." Maddie could her the veiled anger in her mother's voice.

"I think that's a good idea," Maddie said, wondering how to approach the topic of the news storm about the whole incident.

"So Elaine tells me you had reporters at your building yesterday," her mother said, saving her the problem.

"Yes, what about you?"

"Yes, I spoke to a few of them."

Ah, Maddie thought, that's probably why they'd decided to leave her alone. A grieving widow was a better news story anyway. It had probably just taken them longer to track down her mother, whereas Maddie's high profile career meant she could be found in a click of 'I feel lucky' on Google.

"What did you tell them?" Maddie almost didn't want to ask, but she figured it was better to hear it from her mother than read it in the newspaper.

"Oh, just about how your father was a hard worker and a good provider and…" her mother's voice began to waver, "…and that I loved him very much."

"Mom," Maddie said, a warning in her voice.

"Oh come on Maddie, of course I did. I know he had a temper, but underneath it all he had a good heart."

Maddie snorted. "Do you remember the time I nearly lost my spleen, Mom? Because I snuck out to visit Julia?" Maddie's fingers were white around the phone receiver, remembering the days in hospital, the well-meaning jokes from doctors who'd been told she'd fallen on to a tree branch after sneaking out a top floor window to see her boyfriend. In reality she'd stayed late at her best friend's house, trying to avoid her father who she knew had been drinking all afternoon. When she'd got home he'd been waiting for her, his wrath increasing for every hour she'd been out. There'd been nothing she could do but try to protect her head from his kicks as she lay on the floor, waiting for her mother to call the ambulance as she eventually did.

"Should I mention what happened the night I moved out?" Maddie's pulse was firing rapidly, her breathing shallow as waves of anger washed over her.

"Maddie, calm down, calm down," her mother changed tack, her voice now all syrupy with mother love. "Come on sweetie, you know I love you, don't you? What's most important is that we can help each other get through this."

Maddie forced herself to take a deep breath.

"Sure," was all she could managed to say.

"So, anyway, I wanted to let you know that a nice young man called Damien might be calling you."

Maddie stayed silent, waiting to hear where her mother was going with the story. Her silence obviously made her mother nervous, because her next words came out in a rush.

"He's what they call a 'producer' with the Sixty Minutes program. He's going to do an interview with me about everything. Apparently they're going to interview that awful Walters man too. I get to go to the studio and they'll do my hair and make up and everything. He said he'd like to talk to you and maybe get a different angle, so I gave him your work number. Not your home number, though."

Thank god for small mercies, Maddie thought.

"I won't be talking to him Mom, but enjoy your fifteen minutes," Maddie said sarcastically.

Her mother missed the reference. "No, Sixty Minutes."

Maddie didn't say anything, letting the silence grow uncomfortable. But she stored the snippet away, thinking it would be something House would find amusing.

"Maddie?"

She sighed and eventually responded. "Yes, Mom?"

"Have you ever thought that you might have been a little nicer to your father?" her mother sounded nervous, but as if they were words she'd been desperate to say.

"What?" Maddie was incredulous.

"I just mean that you weren't always an easy child. And you did get yourself into some trouble when you were a teenager. You can't blame him for needing to discipline you every now and then."

Maddie's vision went white and she wondered if she was going to pass out. Torrents of words passed through her mind, recriminations, accusations, blame. She wondered what would happen if she let them all out. Would she just collapse like a soufflé in the cold – all of her hot air gone? Would there be anything left of her afterwards?

Maddie did the only thing she could think of; she reached across the desk and put her finger on the phone to disconnect the call. Then she turned her chair and spent a few minutes looking out at the view, trying to breathe deeply.

Turning back to her desk and still shaking slightly she called Elaine.

"Elaine, I don't wish to speak to my mother if she calls back," her voice was controlled, cold.

"Sure Maddie, no problems."

"And if someone called Damien from Sixty Minutes calls, please tell him that I do not wish to participate in the program."

"Will do."

"Also, I'm going to be leaving shortly, can you please call cock… I mean John Anderson and see if we can reschedule our meeting this afternoon? Just tell him I'm not feeling well."

"Another migraine?" Elaine enquired, concerned.

"Maybe, I don't know."

Maddie hung up the phone and dialled another, now familiar number.

"Mario's House of Ribs," House answered cheerfully. It was funnier than Maddie knew, as House and his team were that moment surrounded by chest x-rays of their latest patient. She could her a giggle in the background.

"Hi!" she said, as brightly as she could muster.

"Anything wrong?" House asked. She thankfully wasn't one of those women who just called to say hello and given the events of the past twenty-four hours, it was even bets that something was up.

"No, I'm fine. No reporters. They seem to have found my mother instead and she's proving to be a willing media whore," Maddie tried to make her laugh light, but it sounded nasty even to her ears.

"Right," House said, not sure what else to say.

"Anyway, about tonight, can we skip going out? You're welcome to come over, but I feel like being at home and eating in."

House was still feeling cheery from his morning sex. And he'd just spotted a faint but definitive shadow on the x-ray in front of him.

"Fine by me, see you then."

Maddie started to ask about plans for dinner but he interrupted.

"Gotta go."

--

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! 


	13. Chapter 13

Maddie opened the door to House's knock and walked back to the sofa without watching him come inside. She sat down, returning to the movie that was playing on the plasma, soundtrack blaring.

House closed the door and wandered in, already suspicious that something was going on. _What was with the dismissive greeting at the door?_ he thought. He carried two white plastic bags into the kitchen, calling out as he went, trying to be heard over the noise.

"I brought take-out, hope you like Thai."

"Thai's fine, but I'm not really hungry right now," Maddie yelled back. She realised how loud the movie was playing once she had to talk over it and grabbed the remote, turning the sound down til it was almost silent.

Shrugging over the lack of appreciation for his efforts, he dumped the bags on the counter without opening anything and poured himself a scotch instead. He walked back into the lounge, flopping onto the sofa next to Maddie.

Maddie was still engrossed by the movie, some science fiction thing that happened to be on TV when she'd turned it on. When House sat down she turned to him and started rapidly explaining the plot to that point.

House looked from Maddie to some of the items spread on the coffee table then back to her. Grabbing her chin he brought her face closer to his, noting her dilated pupils, rapid breathing and flushed face.

"What have you taken?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just a little coke," she shrugged. Internally Maddie braced herself. She knew, somewhere deep inside, that she'd deliberately waited until he was coming over to do a line. She'd been wanting it all afternoon, ever since she'd left work after her mother's phone call, but why not wait until someone was there to yell at her?

He was a doctor after all, she reasoned, so now she was in for a serious reaming from a medical professional about the dangers of illicit drugs. With all her senses heightened, the prospect of being reprimanded became almost sexual – she felt her already pacing heart stepping up a beat with anxiety, anticipation, fear, desire.

"Who's your dealer?" House asked.

"What, you really think I could work in PR for all these years and not know how to get my hands on decent stuff?"

House gave her a sideways look. "And you weren't going to share?"

Maddie felt her disappointment keenly, the sense of anticipation running out of her body like air out of a balloon.

House saw the look in her eyes, something was going on in there, but he couldn't decipher it.

"Sure," Maddie answered, pulling over a small, intricately patterned box from the far side of the coffee table, opening it to reveal a small plastic bag of white powder. "Go for it."

She watched as House expertly prepared his line. Much more expertly than she had done, she reflected. She'd obviously seriously underestimated his familiarity with illegal drugs. And clearly had chosen the wrong medical professional if she'd wanted a lecture. Looking back, Maddie wondered why she was surprised. He drank like a fish and was constantly popping those pills of his. His familiarity with recreational drugs should hardly be a shock.

Maddie wandered around the apartment, trying to regain the pleasurable feelings she'd been enjoying just a moment ago.

"What were you watching again?" House asked, sniffing as he put the drug accoutrements away into the little box.

She returned to the sofa. For some reason the movie had been engrossing, she had almost felt like she was the one flying through the stars, weightless and exhilarated.

"It was making me feel pretty good, actually," she settled into the couch, reaching for the remote and leaning into him.

"Yeah, I'm sure you feeling good is entirely down to the cinematography," House countered, giving her a quick jab in the ribs as he wrapped an arm around her.

She laughed ruefully. "Shut up and watch the movie. The ones in the triangle-shaped ships are the baddies, the ones in the others are the goodies. That's about all you need to know."

They spent about twenty minutes watching the movie before sitting still became impossible and both of them were fidgeting.

"The flying through the stars thing was good for a while though, wasn't it?" Maddie asked.

"Sure," House said, rising to pace into the kitchen. "Do you want to eat?" he asked, sighting the forgotten bags of food on the counter.

"Not really." Maddie walked over to the CD player and put on a dance chill-out compilation.

"Normally when I get to this stage, I dance," she called out to him. "Guess that's not what you normally do though."

"Nah, usually I'm…" House cut himself off, he was about to say 'working' but didn't really want to admit that out loud. "…busy and it keeps me going."

"So what shall we do?" Maddie asked, turning little pirouettes to the music.

"I can think of one or two energetic things that mature, consenting adults might like to indulge in when their brains are wired on dopamine…" he said coyly, sitting back on the sofa.

Maddie walked across and stood over him, leaning down to brush her lips against his, still swaying her hips in time to the music. The touch set off sparkles in her mind, shivers in her spine.

"Oh wow, that was good," she said, looking at him wide-eyed.

House looked at her doubtfully. "Seriously?"

She leaned down and did it again, this time feeling every sensation, the soft give of his lips, the rough prickle of his stubble, the firm cartilage of his nose where it pressed against hers. "Mmm. It's like my mouth is on drugs."

"All of you is on drugs," House pointed out.

She climbed onto the sofa, straddling him, making sure to put most of her weight on his left leg.

They kissed for long minutes, exploring each other's mouths. For Maddie all her sensations were concentrated on her mouth and face, she felt aroused, even slightly manic, but the feelings hadn't moved to anywhere else in her body.

House was feeling the kisses all over and was more than ready to move on to new things.

"I haven't kissed for this long since I was a teenager," he said, escaping her mouth to speak.

"I just want to kiss you forever," Maddie said dreamily.

"I'm going to end up with RSI of the jaw," House joked feebly.

"S'ok," she mumbled, continuing to rain kisses over his neck and on whatever skin should could reach around his t-shirt. "I don't have to keep kissing your mouth."

Thoughts were running fast through Maddie's head. She had done coke many times and it had always been good, but this time the anxiety from earlier was still eating away at her. She pushed it down, trying to focus instead on the pleasure she was feeling from her lips.

She backed off him, settling to kneel on the floor, giving him a lascivious smile as she reached for his belt. Undoing his jeans and freeing him from his boxers, Maddie applied her lips to his shaft just as diligently as she had to his mouth.

House groaned in appreciation, running his hand through her hair, gently grasping a handful to help guide her movements.

Maddie ran her hands up the outside of each of his legs, gripping his thighs, pressing her fingernails into him through his jeans.

House gasped; her left hand was digging into the scar on his right thigh; the skin was rough there, so she had to feel it.

"Maddie, your hand," House prompted, breathless, as her mouth was still working him exquisitely.

She didn't move, only dug her fingernails in a little tighter, swirled her tongue more enticingly. "Maddie, your hand is hurting me." House said, more forcefully, angry she hadn't heeded his warning. He moved to pull her hand away from him.

Maddie wasn't thinking properly anymore, something she couldn't understand or explain was compelling her. She pulled her mouth off him, sitting back on her heels, panting. She looked up at him with wild eyes, still clasping his thigh, her knuckles showing white with effort.

House sat up straight, grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand away from his leg. He twisted her arm back and away from him, causing her to have to lean back to avoid dislocating her shoulder.

At that moment he felt wild with rage at her, his fingers biting into her wrist. He had to battle every instinct in his body that was compelling him to fight, to attack her for getting him at his most vulnerable.

He stared at her, captured by the gleam in her eyes, uncomfortably coming to the realisation that it was something he easily recognised. Pain. She knew she'd been hurting him. She'd done it deliberately because she wanted retaliation.

She wanted him to hurt her back.

-

* * *

House stood, releasing her arm and moving away. He tucked himself in, doing up his pants and belt shakily. That he'd been moments from orgasm just a few seconds ago seemed unbelievable.

He looked at her, sitting on the floor, absently rubbing her wrist where he'd grabbed it. She was still staring at the sofa where he'd been sitting.

"Maddie, I can't do this," he paused, drawing in a shaky breath, his heart still racing but now it was a sick, unpleasant feeling.

"I'll drink with you, I'll fuck you, I'll even get high with you, but I'm not going to be your punishment."

Maddie leant forward, sinking her forehead into the sofa cushion, and didn't move, not even when she heard the door close behind him.

* * *

House got into the car and sat for a moment, watching his hands on the steering wheel. They were shaking, an effect of the cocaine. It was too bad for him to drive.

He grabbed his cell.

"Wilson? Need your help," he said as soon as the other man answered.

Wilson sighed. "Now what?" He'd just got to the hotel room that passed as his home these days and kicked off his shoes. He'd been looking forward to taking a bath.

"Need you to come pick me up. I can't drive."

"Where are you?"

"Outside Maddie's."

"What have you done now?" Wilson's tone showed both concern and frustration.

"A couple of lines of coke," House answered honestly.

"That's not what I meant, but, OK," Wilson had to admit he was a little shocked. No, not shocked, but definitely surprised. He gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Give me the address."

About twenty minutes later, House was relieved to see the sight of Wilson's car rounding the corner. He was starting to get really cold. The only upside was that the chill was sobering him up quickly. He'd decided not to turn on the car for its heater in the hope that he'd be straight by the time Wilson arrived.

"You look like shit," Wilson greeted him as House climbed into the warm car.

"Thanks. Turn up the heater, I'm frozen."

Wilson took another long look at his friend, but decided not to ask any questions. He adjusted the heating controls and drove off towards House's apartment.

House warmed his hands in front of the heater duct, rubbing them to restore circulation. His mind was deliberately blank, and it was taking a lot of energy trying not to think about what had just happened. But despite his best efforts he couldn't get away from the sense of violation and betrayal clinging to him like unwelcome ghosts.

They pulled up out the front of House's building without either of them having spoken further.

"House?" Wilson said, prompting, as House showed every sign of getting out of the car without talking.

House gave him a single, ragged look.

"It's over."

He got out of the car and walked into his apartment. Wilson watched as he walked away, leaning heavily on his cane. He shook his head, already beginning to dread the coming weeks.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Nice long chapter for you - we're fast closing in on the finale! Thanks for your reviews - Sokerchick you made me smile for a whole day!

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Maddie went into work around nine-thirty after a night spent pacing her apartment and agonising over the wording of a single email. Elaine gave her a sympathetic look.

"You did have a migraine after all didn't you?" she tut-tutted.

"Yeah, I guess so," Maddie answered, figuring it was easier than explaining the real reason why she looked like death warmed up.

Once in her office she made two phone calls. One to Lisa Cuddy, explaining that the chairman, John Anderson, had asked for the launch announcement to be delayed by a month. Cuddy was disappointed, of course, but Maddie called on her understanding of difficult personalities and managed to convince her that they'd be able to do an even better job with more time to prepare.

She also called John Anderson's office, telling him that the hospital had asked for the launch to be put off because they wanted more time to prepare. He was irritated, but she put the blame squarely on doctors' fragile egos and their need for things to be perfect.

Maddie knew it was unprofessional, and she hated to think what might happen if they were ever to speak to one another about it, but she thought that was unlikely and, besides, she didn't really care all that much.

That task done, she spent a good long while looking out the window, spinning her chair back and forward slowly, wondering what to do next.

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House limped into his office the next morning. Maddie hadn't done him any serious damage, he just had faint purple bruises where she'd grabbed him. But for someone already in pain, a little extra can feel like too much to bear.

He turned on his computer and started to look through the various pieces of paper that had managed to land on his desk since yesterday.

Turning to his computer screen, he gave a little jolt of surprise to see the top two emails in his inbox were from Madeline Cooper. Sent at around four-thirty that morning.

_Good_, he thought vindictively, _at least I wasn't the only one who didn't sleep_.

The earlier email was simply titled, _About last night_. House opened it first.

_Greg, I'm so sorry. I know it's not an excuse, but my mother called me yesterday and it just re-surfaced a lot of bad memories for me – memories that haven't worried me for years. _

_I know you didn't know me before this happened, but all I can tell you is that normally I'm a pretty stable, ordinary person. I feel like I've spent the short time we've known each other apologising for my behaviour in one way or another. It's not something I'm proud of._

_I hope you understand, although I don't expect it. _

_M_

House closed the email, not sure how he felt about what he'd read. He opened the second email, titled _Re: About last night_ revealing the harsh Courier font of a computer server somewhere.

_Madeline Cooper tried to recall this message at…_

House checked the times: about two minutes apart. She'd either sent it accidentally or changed her mind very quickly after she'd sent it.

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After spinning in her chair for a while, Maddie packed up her laptop and left her office. She made an appointment to see her doctor, planning to get a certificate for at least a week's sick leave away from work.

At the doctor's office she'd finally received that sermon she'd wanted about using illegal drugs, including a warning about cocaine's ability to induce instant and acute depression. Only by then the lecture had completely lost its appeal; her guilt and horror over what she'd done was all the penalty she needed. She'd walked out with her doctor's note, some sleeping pills and a fresh sense of shame over her behaviour.

The poison of her mother's phone call had faded and joined the collection of pale scars from other conversations they'd had over the years. She'd been down that road so many times before, and she had thought that she was getting better at dealing with them. Until recently.

Maddie stopped by the grocery store and stocked up. She had one plan in mind: hibernation. Then she'd get back into her life. A life that had used to feel fulfilling and often fun. Why now did it just seem empty?

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For the week after declaring things with Maddie over, House buried himself in his work. In fact, if anything he was working harder than ever and complaining less. Of course, most people had no idea what his Vicoden intake was, but on the surface – to others at least – he seemed almost, well, normal.

To most others, anyway. To Wilson, House was anything but _normal_. What might be considered normal for other human beings was not normal for House. He was working long hours, taking extra care with following up on his patients. Even his team had made comments that the pile of outstanding paperwork and chart notes was diminishing.

Wilson had made a few attempts to get House to talk about what had happened, but he'd been so far absolutely unwilling to disclose the details of the disagreement that had led to the break up.

Late one evening at the hospital Wilson decided he'd have one last go. He still had vague hopes that things might be salvageable, although as time passed his hopes were dimming.

He walked into House's office, observing what used to be the rare sight of his friend bent over paperwork, reading glasses propped on his nose. He looked up, appearing irritated at the interruption.

"What do you want?"

"Wanna grab a beer?" Wilson offered.

House lowered his head to the files. "Nope, working."

"Since when is completing your charts more fun than going for a beer with a friend?" Wilson asked, trying to jolly him into agreeing.

"Piss off Wilson." House knew that he could speak like this to Wilson, he seemed to have insult-proof skin in the same way ducks' feathers repel water.

Wilson took the insult in his stride, moving across to sit in the chair opposite House. He grabbed a red yoyo lying discarded on the desk and started half-heartedly flicking it up and down, trying the occasional trick.

After a few moments Wilson's appalling attempts with the yoyo were more than House could bear.

"Didn't you learn how to work a yoyo at school?" he asked angrily. "You're doing it all wrong. And you're going to get it tangled. For Christ's sake leave it alone!"

"Transference much?" Wilson chuckled, wrapping up the yoyo's string and placing it back on the desk.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, duh, it means you're angry about something other than my pathetic yoyo-ing," Wilson taunted, aware that every time he'd opened this conversation in the past week he'd been told to piss off and a lot worse besides.

House took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He really did appreciate Wilson's patience, his dogged follow-up to make sure that he was ok. He deserved a little pay off every now and then.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?" he sighed.

"Nup," Wilson answered cheerfully.

"She's really messed up," House started, wondering where to go from there.

"Yes, we knew that," Wilson said slowly, now serious. "But we also thought it might be a temporary thing. Did you get her to see anyone?"

House smiled ruefully. "Turns out she has similar feelings to my own when it comes to that sort of thing."

"You mean ignoring it and hoping it goes away?"

"Pretty much."

"And how's that working out for both of you?" Wilson couldn't help the edge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," House mumbled.

"So what actually happened between you that night?" Wilson asked pointedly.

House took a deep breath, wondering how to explain what had taken place.

"She was … we both were … high …" he started

"On cocaine," Wilson added.

"Yes."

"Not the best drug of choice if you're already feeling anxious or depressed," he pointed out.

House narrowed his eyes, considering Wilson's insight.

"She…" He decided to leave out the details of exactly what she'd done to hurt him. "…hit me. Not hard, but enough to hurt."

Wilson looked taken aback.

"What, like an S&M thing?"

"No!" House said, irritated. "Apparently she'd just had a conversation with her mother that brought up some of those skeletons you're so fond of talking about."

He took a deep breath. But he was sure of his interpretation.

"I think she wanted to hurt me so I'd hit her back."

"Hmmm." Wilson sat back in the chair, thinking.

House watched his friend; he could almost see the wheels turning as he worked to come up with a rationale, an explanation, a story to make the world right again.

"Grace me with the benefit of your wisdom oh great thrice-divorced guru," House couldn't help wise-cracking at Wilson's deep thinking.

Wilson bowed his head in mock acceptance of House's honorific.

"Well if you ask me, and it would seem that you are, I think it's about closing a loop – the hurt thing is about a pattern. You said you thought she was abused as a child?" he asked.

"Yes, pretty bad I think, but I don't know the details." House knew there'd been violence, he'd seen that surgical scar, but didn't know exact details. He shuddered to think of her as a fragile teen, at the mercy of… he shook his head to clear the images.

"And if she was having a paranoid episode because of the drugs, that could easily manifest in physical violence," Wilson mused. "She might not have even been fully conscious of what she was doing. Perhaps the call from her mother just brought that pattern of love connected with abuse back to the forefront of her mind – and you just happened to be the 'love' part, so she added the violence."

House had to admit that what Wilson was saying made sense of a kind.

"So what, she needs to close the loop?" House asked. He wondered exactly what that meant for Maddie. A great deal of his reaction to that night had been about his own response – fear at his own rage. But he hadn't succumbed. That would be closing his own loop, the one he'd tried so desperately to leave behind – turning into an abuser like his father, when he'd struggled all his life to be a healer instead; solving pain, not causing it.

"The stupid thing is that I miss her. I'd rather be in this messed up situation with her than be, well, how things were before I met her." He took in Wilson's raised eyebrows – he was a little surprised himself by the admission.

"That's great," Wilson said, genuinely happy for his friend. "Maybe you just have to help her close out what her father's death means to her.

"It's like…" he struggled for a metaphor. "It's like you're trying to have a beginning, but she's going through an ending at the same time. They are messy times in life. Maybe you just need to help her to finish off the ending so that she can concentrate on your beginning."

Wilson looked carefully at House, wondering if he'd lost him with his esoteric comments.

But House was nodding slowly, a realisation dawning. _Endings. That's exactly what she needed, and that was exactly what she'd missed. _

"So maybe you could take her to rehab?" Wilson offered as a practical solution.

"What?" House asked sharply, surprised, as his own thoughts had been going in a totally different direction. Maddie drank, sure, and there was obviously the cocaine, but rehab?

"I just mean rehab is good for lots of things, not just drink and drugs, but for sorting out your mind too." Wilson pushed further. "Maybe you could do it together."

"Hmmm," House mused, staring off into the distance as a plan formed in his mind.

Wilson sighed. "Well at least you know she'd get the help she needs."

House nodded. "Yes, you're right. Thanks Wilson. Now get out."

House looked up and smiled genuinely at his friend, then scowled.

"I mean it! Shoo!"

Wilson shook his head and mumbled as he walked out of the office.

"No need to thank me; tributes at the shrine will do fine." He gave House a mock namaste-style bow as he disappeared around the door.

House looked at his watch; it was after nine pm. After twenty minutes of research on the internet he picked up his back pack and started making his plan for the next day.

----------------------------------------------------

_The next day_

Maddie had been sitting at home for days in her self-imposed hibernation. She'd alternated between listless and motionless, sometimes staring out the window, sometimes roaming from room to room as if looking for something. She was sure she'd been driving her neighbours insane, playing the same song over and over.

In her mind she kept repeating the same questions. _How could I have hurt someone I care about? Especially when I know what it's like to be hurt by someone you trust? When I know that he's been through the same thing?_

At first, she hadn't meant to hurt him. She'd just been seized by a frantic need to hold him close, to hang on to him so he couldn't get away. Then she'd felt a sudden desperation and loneliness, and was convinced he would hurt her. And somehow, that had translated into causing him pain.

_Hurting him before he could hurt her. _

_Hurting him so that he could hurt her. _

It still didn't make sense and she doubted it ever would.

Maddie knew that her seclusion would have to end soon, but it had been needed. And she was starting to prepare herself to move back into the world. At least she had forced herself to shower and dress that morning.

She could just about imagine going back to work, back to her life the way it had been before a drunken baseball star had torn apart her peace of mind and a tall, blue-eyed doctor had found his way into her heart.

Sitting with a cup of tea in her favourite chair in the early afternoon, her view of the city was interrupted by loud knocking on the door. Assuming it would be a neighbour complaining about the music, she decided to ignore it.

House banged on the door again, knowing she was home. He'd needed the convincing from Wilson that this was a good idea, but – just like with his patients – now that he had decided on a path of action he was determined to follow it through.

"Madeline! I know you're in there!"

Maddie started. She recognised the voice instantly. Him coming to find her was the last thing she had expected. Thoughts raced through her brain including, she was embarrassed to realise, wondering how she looked. She walked to the door and leant against it, trying to imagine why he would be here, what on earth she could possibly say to him.

House was just about to start a new round of knocking when the door opened just wide enough for him to see Maddie's face. She looked surprised but, he was pleased to note, she seemed rested and calm.

"I didn't expect to see you here," was all she could think to say.

"Let me in," he said bluntly.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Because I said so," House muttered, pushing against the door. Maddie didn't resist, and before she knew it he was in her apartment, taking those impossibly long strides down the corridor towards her bedroom.

"Where are your warm clothes?" he yelled out to her over his shoulder.

"In the closet on the right," she answered automatically, before wondering why he would be asking that question.

Maddie followed him down the corridor, finding him in the bedroom, ransacking her closet. He threw a sweater, jacket and scarf on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going on a little trip and you'll need a jacket. We can sort everything else out later. Get your things together – we're leaving now." His tone brooked no argument.

Maddie didn't move, just looked at him, his determined movements.

"I don't understand. Why are you here? Where are we going? Why…"

House cut her off.

"Stop." He walked over to her, placed his free hand on her shoulder and looked at her intently to ensure she listened carefully. "I will explain later. Just get some shoes on, grab your purse and come with me."

In a response she couldn't explain, Maddie felt hot tears prick at her eyes. Maybe he was going to take her to the police and have her charged with assault. Or maybe he was just going to take her on a picnic. Whatever it was, she knew that she'd follow him over hot coals if he asked her to. There was a sense of both panic and relief in surrendering to him.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Have a wonderful festive season everyone! Here's your present from me – the final chapter for this saga. Enjoy!

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They'd been driving for about thirty minutes and House still hadn't explained where they were going and Maddie hadn't asked. The silence had started out uncomfortably, but as time had worn on, they had both settled into it. Maddie contented herself with staring out the window – it was just like being in her apartment except the view kept changing.

Soon enough they reached what looked like a park surrounded by a high stone fence and House pulled the car into a parking spot.

Maddie was confused for a moment – the picnic idea was just a random thought, surely he wouldn't? – but then she saw the sign next to the ornate wrought-iron gate.

"No," she said, shaking her head and shrinking back into the car seat. "No, no, no, no. I'm not going in there."

"Oh yes you are," House countered, matter-of-factly. He got out of the car and went around to the passenger side, opening Maddie's door.

"Come on." He tugged on her hand, pulling her up.

Maddie stood and let House pull her coat around her, wondering what to do. She could sit back in the car and refuse to budge; with his leg there was no way he could carry her. But he was so determined and, as she took in the set of his face, she was sure he'd find a way to make it happen.

"Are you really going to make me do this?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Yes I am. But we're both going to do it – together," he answered. He could see her confusion and fear, but he was still convinced this was absolutely the right thing to do.

They walked along the stone wall and through the gates, past the large gilded sign: _Municipal General Cemetery_. Heavy clouds dragged across the sky, giving the graveyard a gloomy and oppressive feel.

Inside the gates, House stood for a moment, checking the map board against the information he'd got from the internet.

"There," he said, pointing at a spot towards the middle. He turned and looked at Maddie, somehow shrunken in her overcoat and scarf. He reached out and grabbed her gloved hand in his. "Come on."

After five minutes of walking and a little time to locate the right headstone, they were finally standing in front of a grey, granite slab, the earth in front of it still showing the signs of its recent upheaval.

_Jack Cooper, Loved Husband And Father, Now Resting In Heaven, 1945-2007_

House watched her carefully, not sure what to expect. He'd thought there'd probably be tears, perhaps even anger, and he was prepared to let her take it out on him if she needed to. But for the moment he just stood to the side and let her think.

Maddie stood in front of the cold, frosty stone. She waited for a chill, or a release, or some kind of tsunami of emotion to overcome her, and was faintly disappointed when it failed to materialise.

The anger, grief, whatever she had expected just wasn't there anymore. Absent. In its place she was surprised to find was a dull blankness – the realisation that nothing significant had changed, her life would continue now as it had before. Jack Cooper had played a part in forming her life, but his influence had been over a long time ago, and his death hadn't really altered that.

She spoke softly, although loud enough for House to hear.

"Hey Dad," she whispered, "you really were a crappy father, you know?"

Maddie stepped back from the graveside and turned to House.

"He's really not part of life anymore," she said, trying to explain. "He hasn't been for a long time. I don't know why I've only just realised that."

House nodded, knowing what she was getting at. He'd worked hard to put miles between himself and his own father, he understood her thinking.

"Should I feel bad for not feeling bad?" Maddie asked him, hesitantly.

House put an arm around her shoulders and leant in to kiss her quickly on the cheek.

"No, you shouldn't. You should feel good that this is behind you."

A massive clap of thunder made them both start, interrupting their moment. Icy rain started falling and they hurriedly made their way back toward the entrance, House stepping carefully on the wet and slippery ground.

By the time they got back to the car they were both soaked and shivering and after peeling off their wet outer layers, they made their way back to Maddie's apartment with the car's heater blasting.

In contrast to the long journey to the cemetery, the trip home seemed to take just moments and they were walking in the door as dusk fell.

When they entered her apartment, Maddie wandered around, turning on lamps, fidgeting. She was so touched that he'd come to find her, that he'd taken her to the cemetery. But now what? Had he done that out of concern for her? Did he still see a future for them, or had he just wanted to make sure she was OK before he said goodbye for good? Maddie just had to know.

For his part, House watched Maddie wander, he could practically see the cogs turning in her head. He started to feel a little anxious, unsure now what she wanted. Now that she seemed to be feeling more settled about her family, what would she want from him? Would she want him at all? Or had he just been a useful crutch during a difficult time? He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

"How can you forgive me for what I did? Will you ever trust me again?" Maddie blurted out at him from the lounge.

As always, unsettled by probing questions he didn't know how to answer, he responded with a joke.

"I might need a couple more drinks before I let your mouth near my private parts again." He downed his scotch in a smooth gulp and moved to join her in the lounge.

Maddie exhaled forcefully. "But that's exactly what I mean. I don't want you wondering when I might next go psychotic and hurt you. I don't ever want to do that again – for both our sakes."

"I don't want you to either," he said bluntly. "But you won't will you?"

He looked into her eyes for the answer he knew was there. The past week, perhaps also the visit to the cemetery, had changed her. That edge of mania – something just a little bit dangerous that he'd always seen in her – was gone. He briefly wondered whether he was going to like her quite as much without it.

"I promise that I will never intentionally hurt you, but I can't promise that everything is behind me." She looked at him, a slightly desperate look in her eyes. "I put all this to rest years ago and I never imagined it'd be back to haunt me after all this time. So I feel … I don't know … scared, I guess, about making any promises about the future."

House shrugged. "Isn't it enough that we make a start? No one can promise anything about the future."

Maddie gave him a little smile. _How had two such damaged people ended up together?_ she wondered. _How can we possibly make it work? But how can we possibly not give it a try?_

She shivered, her rain-soaked clothes now making her feel chilled and uncomfortable.

"I'm going to take a shower to warm up," she said. Apart from holding hands and his kiss on her cheek, she realised, they hadn't really touched each other yet. She moved towards him, tentatively putting her hand to his face.

"There's room for two if you'd like."

House stared at her. Somehow the realisation of what he'd said to her was just hitting him. He was actually volunteering to have a go at a proper, grown up relationship with a woman who was almost definitely more screwed up than he was. But – like Maddie had been at the cemetery – if he was waiting for a tide of regret or panic, it didn't come. His leg was aching from the cold but his body was aching to touch her, to be pressed against her, to be inside her. Before that, though, there was something he had to do.

"One thing first," he said. He walked over to her shelves and located the little box of drugs. He removed the bag of white powder and took it into the kitchen, emptying it down the sink. Maddie watched as he ran the tap until it dissolved, making no move to stop him.

"Let's not go here again, OK?" he asked her frankly.

Maddie nodded. "Good idea," she said softly.

House smiled wryly and they shared a look before Maddie turned and headed into the bathroom. There, they shed their damp clothes and got under the jet of hot water as quickly as possible.

She poured a generous amount of shower gel into her hands and began soaping him, covering every inch of his skin from his toes to his eyebrows except his groin. He was straining towards her, every nerve ending tingling, impatiently awaiting her more intimate touch.

She stood back a little, letting the spray wash over him. She smiled, looking at him, his skin shiny and slick from the water, his obvious arousal the result of her handiwork.

"What's so funny?" asked House cautiously.

"You look like a statue," Maddie giggled a little. "Like the Greek god of lust or something."

"Come here," House growled, grabbing the bottle of gel. He started the suds at her fingertips, working his way up her arms to her shoulders, then turned her around, soaping her back and massaging her shoulders briefly. He reached around her to run his slippery fingers over her breasts and hard nipples, eliciting a sigh that encouraged him to continue. Maddie pressed back into him, loving the feel of his chest hairs on her back, his hard cock pushing against her.

After a few moments, Maddie turned around and stood under the spray to wash away the soap.

"I think that's enough washing for now," she said, a little breathlessly.

"But I haven't got to the really dirty bits yet," House said with a pout.

"Oh, you'll definitely be getting to those," Maddie said. "Just give me a minute."

She switched off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel for herself and handing one to him. They dried off carelessly, Maddie stopping them halfway through, succumbing to her overwhelming need to feel his body against her. She held him tightly, arms around him, her head buried against his shoulder. She could literally feel an ache in her chest as feelings of gratitude and desire threatened to overpower her.

House wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He gave her a moment, sensing her need to pause and gather her thoughts, enjoying the warm comfort of her now familiar body.

Releasing him, Maddie looked up into his face, trying to communicate everything she was feeling with her eyes. She wasn't ready or able to put it into words yet, but she knew he understood.

They walked into the bedroom, wet skin drying quickly as they pulled the covers over themselves to keep warm.

House took up where he'd left off in the shower, teasing her breasts. Maddie reached down and took him in her hand, stroking and teasing him in the same way while her mouth sought out his nipples. Her touch made his need stronger and he moved his hand down her body, caressing her intimately, wanting to ensure she was ready for him. Maddie groaned and arched back, letting his pianist's fingers play over her, in her, building a crescendo.

After a moment, she stilled his hand, pushing on his chest to roll him onto his back. She reached over him, straddling his hips, pushing down onto him. He closed his eyes and let out a breath as he felt her smooth warmth surround him. They moved together in the oldest dance in the world, Maddie leading the way.

House tried desperately to hang on, but when Maddie started lightly raking her fingernails down his chest the electricity of her touch and the friction of her movement proved to much. With a low moan, he surrendered to the sensations.

Maddie felt him tense and come apart within her; a moment later she followed him with a hoarse cry.

She collapsed on his chest, resting while they both recovered their breathing.

Finally, tenderly, they kissed. It was as if they had both been putting off this most profound of connections, waiting until they were both sure that everything was going to be all right.

Maddie slipped off House, lying out next to him. She pulled the quilt tightly around them both and snuggled into his warmth. Wrapped around each other, they slept peacefully in the space they'd created for their beginning.

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**A/N**: I don't normally like the device of putting song lyrics into stories. But this whole thing was inspired in part by a song called Space They Cannot Touch and it just feels right to provide you with the lyrics as a sign off.

_How's my luck  
But somehow I'm with you  
Let's leave now  
Let's leave them, their point of view  
My favourite place is me and you_

_I wake up in the darkest night  
Watch you breathe in shadow light  
A perfect world lies next to me  
And I don't need to sleep to dream_

_Morning sun warms our skin  
And distant sounds  
The day begins  
Soon their world will come calling for us  
But this is the space they cannot touch_

_I just hope  
I am good enough  
to keep you_

Thank you so much to my lovely loyal reviewers, especially: Sokerchick, Gypsy71 and RavenDiesel1! This story has been difficult to write, so your encouragement has been immensely valued.

PS – I am working on a sequel to a previous story, Too Much Too Soon. If anyone enjoyed that and would be interested in being a beta or just giving me a second opinion before I post I'd value some input. Send me a message.


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